


The Reasons You Don't Need

by Wyanmai



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyanmai/pseuds/Wyanmai
Summary: Life hasn't been very fair to quiet and reserved Kim Connweller. In the face of trauma and loss, all Kim can do is push away the world and try to keep her pain from boiling over. But when Jared Cameron, the boy she loved as a little girl, the boy whose popularity and good-natured openness naturally sets his world apart from hers, suddenly becomes a very real and very constant presence in her life, Kim finds herself with reopened wounds and struggling to let Jared help her mend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Was Enough](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/282453) by DarcyDarcy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a reworking and continuation of another, unfinished work on Fanfiction.net by the writer Darcydarcy. The first few chapters are reworkings of the chapters in Darcydarcy's story. I don't mean to steal her work and pass it off as my own-I simply enjoyed her take on these characters and wanted to continue and finish it. If you want to read the story that I've based mine off of, it's called What Was Enough. Just a warning: There are spoilers in her story that I will reveal in my version much later on.

_Winter, 2004_

One of my favorite memories is lit in an orange glow. Stevie Nicks' silvery voice drifted about the room as I watched my dad twirl my mom around like a princess at a ball, then cross her arms in front of her, holding her hands from behind. He tucked his chin up against her ear, crooning. It was a Sunday evening, just us in our living room, my little sister Sophie curled up on the corduroy recliner, dozing off. It had gotten dark, past our bedtime, but they didn't notice. They just moved together, melting into each other, slowly dancing. My mom had her eyes closed, and at something my dad whispered, her lips curled into a lazy half smile. My dad stared at her, his eyes dark and heavy, and suddenly the room felt stuffy, too small for all four of us. Softly, I crept up, slipped my arms around Sophie's sleeping form, and left. My parents never even looked up.

Memories seemed to be my singular brand of torture. The good ones, the ones that are so sweet and warm at the front of your mind, are always tangled up with the bad, like dock lines ensnarled into each other, that both surface at once in the mind. Before you know it, the sweet memory is gone and suddenly all that's left is the bitter aftertaste of seawater on your tongue. You try not to think about it, but of course you end up dwelling on it more, because thinking about forgetting just makes you remember.

* * *

"That's it!"

My brother Christopher tossed his fork, sounding disgusted, and it landed with a sad clatter on the kitchen table. Startled, I looked up from the knot in the wooden floor that I had been zoning out at. He seemed flushed. It was hard to tell. He was always sunburned.

"What?" I asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Chris' wife Penelope staring at her plate, suddenly fascinated by her pasta.

"This isn't healthy, Kim," he said, his voice somehow firm and resigned all at once. "You can't keep doing this. You're not eating well, you hardly talk anymore, and it's like you don't have any friends. I never see you leave the house on weekends."

I began to study my pasta too. "Junior year's been pretty intense so far," I mumbled, and attempted a nonchalant shrug. Chris didn't buy it.

"Bullshit," he declared. "You're depressed, but that's fine. I get it, I do. But that means we need to get you fixed up."

I wanted to tell him no, that I wasn't depressed, that I was perfectly fine, but I couldn't even form the words. Even I couldn't lie to myself—the truth was so obvious. Sophie sat on one hand, then the other, then pulled both hands out again, shifting her eyes between me and Chris as we spoke.

"Penny and I have talked about this," Christ was speaking again, "And we've agreed that it would probably be good for you if you saw a counselor."

"A counselor?" I repeated, not comprehending.

"A psychiatrist," he said, "You know, like a therapist."

I paused. "So, a shrink."

"Something like that."

"But I'm not crazy," I blurted out. "I'm not sick either. There's nothing wrong with me! I'm just—"

"Sweetie," said Penelope, "there's nothing wrong with talking it out with someone. I went to a therapist when I was your age, when my parents separated. It helped a lot, you know."

She was trying to be comforting, I knew, but I certainly didn't feel comforted. Maybe her voice was naturally condescending.

"You're not going to let me say no, are you?" I spun some pasta onto my fork, then turned my fork down and let the spaghetti drop onto the plate again.

"It'll be good for you," Christ repeated, avoiding my question.

I fell silent as I weighed my options. I could resist it, and waste energy I didn't have, or I could go see some shrink and spend time staring at her office walls instead of sitting on my bed and staring at my own. I supposed a change in scenery couldn't hurt.

"Fine, whatever," I said.

They looked relieved, and satisfied, as if they had done their duty and manifested their care for my well-being. Was it a sign that they loved me? I wasn't sure anymore. It had been a while since I'd felt love for sure.

Little Ethan made coughing sounds from his highchair, and Penelope immediately jumped up to tend to her son. It was odd to live with my brother's family, to be sixteen but live in a house run by a young couple just starting out with a family. Living here felt out of place in the continuum on things, disjointed somehow, as if this time in my life shouldn't have been entwined with this time in theirs.

"Shh, calm down, sweet boy. Mommy's here," Penelope was murmuring. She settled Ethan over her shoulder and petted down his spine, which usually made him fall asleep right away. Penelope was the kind of mother who had gotten one of those CD player belts a pregnant woman could wrap around her belly so that her baby had close access to Mozart from the womb. Ethan, sadly, was going to be subjected to a childhood filled with bilingual baby shows and a mother who strapped him in elbow protectors when he first started out on his tricycle.

"I'm full," Sophie declared, pushing her plate away. There was still pasta left on her plate, but Sophie only ever finished a food if it was dessert. "I'm going to my room."

"Me too," I said, "I've got homework."

Penelope opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again in silence. She always insisted that we sat down for family dinner every night, not something Sophie and I are used to in our old house. I would have preferred to eat in my room most nights, but it was hard to say no when she insisted. I grabbed a banana for breakfast before I headed through the kitchen door.

Chris and Penelope's house was nice, but it was meant for a small family—just two bedrooms, not big enough for five people. We hadn't been their plan when they'd bought it. Penelope had only wanted one child, but now she was stuck with two that weren't even hers.

Because of the space issue, and because I wanted to separate myself from the rest of the family in any way I could, I opted to move my room to the attic instead of sharing with Sophie. I was glad with my choice, because even though a few ceiling beams crossed a precarious three inches above my head, the space was big enough to move in my queen bed, desk, and dresser. There was a nook that I had turned into a walk-in closet, and the single window let in sufficient light. There was even a tiny bathroom, though I had to go down to the house to shower.

When I'd first moved in, Penelope had coaxed me into a shopping day and bought me new bedding and rugs, making the cold attic feel a little homier. The only issue with the attic was that the only way to get up was through a ladder that extended into the garage. It did add to the privacy, but annoyed me every time I had to take my shoes on and off between the house and my room.

Up in the attic, I sat down on my bed and wondered if it was too early to get ready for bed. I didn't actually have homework. It was Sunday night, and without anything to do on weekends, naturally I had finished all my work by noon on Saturday. Unable to help myself, I pulled my chair over to the window and looked out. It was getting dark and no one was out on the beach, which I could see just over the house across from ours. Penelope was always complaining that we are so close to the ocean yet didn't have a view, but she clearly didn't come up here enough. I had a perfect waterfront view of the cliffs and the choppy water splashing against the jagged rocks that dotted the shore. Unfortunately, looking at the ocean was the last thing I wanted to do.

Good thing, then, that I had other things to distract me. It was, objectively, stalkerish and unhealthy, and if anyone found out I would probably have died, but watching Jared Cameron's room had become something of a pastime for me in the eight months since I'd moved in with Chris. Jared's house was bigger than ours, stilted, with two full stories and a smaller attic level. I had a perfect view of the second floor from my window, diagonally across the way, and I knew for a fact that Jared's room was the second on the left. For a very popular boy who got invited to everything, he spent a surprising amount of time at home. He always left his lights on and his curtains drawn at night, like now, so I could clearly make out his figure moving around in his warmly lit room.

It looked like he was doing homework tonight, but I couldn't be sure. He was sitting on his bed scribbling something, hunched over in concentration. I couldn't see his facial features from so far away, but I liked to think that I had Jared's memorized. He has one of those faces that strikes you the first time you see it, and after that, you can't ever forget. Certainly, I couldn't.

As I watched, Jared flipped open his cell phone and put it to his ear for a few seconds, then laid it down. He ran a hand through his hair, then rested it behind his neck. I could almost hear the sigh he let out. A few minutes passed, and I tried to look away for a while, but then his bedroom door opened.

Someone entered his room, and I didn't need to be close to see that it was a girl. I couldn't tell who it was, only that her body was lithe and tall. I bit into my lip as Jared got up from his bed and walked over to her. I wanted to look away, because I hated to see what I knew was happening, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the window. The girl wrapped her arms around Jared's waist and then, before I realized he had turned his head, Jared's eyes connected with mine. I gasped, a short, rough sound, then, in a snap of instinct, I ripped my curtain across the window.


	2. Chapter 2

It was raining.

Of course, rain in La Push, Washington was no surprise. The sun seemed to perpetually neglect the Olympic Peninsula. But today, the rain hammered the roof and porch and splattered horizontally against the windows. It was one of those mornings that looked like night had been washed from black to gray, like a pair of faded black jeans. Naturally, I just wanted to fall back into bed, but alas, school did not close for a little water pouring from the sky.

At night, especially since moving to an attic, I'd come to enjoy the sound of steady rain against the house as I fell asleep, but when rain appeared during the day my mood was immediately dampened. Regardless, no matter how passionate one's loathing of the rain, life in the Pacific Northwest certainly accustomed passionate hate into a numb, resentful acceptance. I, for instance, knew exactly how to layer my clothing to prevent being drenched and freezing all day: bra, tank top, long sleeve shirt, sweater, hoodie; underwear, leggings, jeans. I felted hugged as I descended my ladder and pushed the door open to the kitchen.

"You have your lunch?" I asked Sophie, and she nodded, pouting. Sophie, at Penelope's insistence, was wearing one of my hand-me-down winter coats—even though we were only halfway through November with no sign of snow—and she looked like she'd spent the morning trying to get out of it. She was always fighting with Penelope, partly because Penelope had her way of making you do as she wished even though you resented every moment of it, but mainly because Sophie had turned into a huge brat the day she began fourth grade.

"Let's go," Sophie rolled her eyes from the kitchen door, swinging her pink flowery lunchbox against her leg. She was slumped over under what looked like the weight of her backpack, but of course, it couldn't have been nearly that heavy. I suddenly had the urge to laugh. The coat looked like it was growing larger by the second, threatening to swallow her. I ushered her out the door before Penelope could tell her to stand up straight.

Penelope sighed, and I smiled at her apologetically. I always felt the need to apologize for Sophie, because after all, no matter how we tried to act like a family, Penelope and I both knew she was counting down the tedious years until Sophie and I moved out and she could have her life back. She had a long wait ahead of her.

"Have a good day," she told me, trying to sound maternal.

"Yeah, you too, Penny."

Sophie was sitting in my car, her arms folded across her chest as much as her huge coat would let her. I thought I saw tears on her cheeks, but I was afraid to address them before she did. Instead, I opened the door and turned on the heater

"Put your seatbelt on, Soph."

"I hate it here," she said, ignoring me and sounding like she was about to cry again.

 _I do too._  "Oh, don't say that," I tried to sound reassuring as I pulled out of the driveway. "Penny and Chris are really trying to make us feel at home."

Her tears shouldn't have brought about mine, I knew. She was nine, and nine-year-old girls cried about everything: a lost doll, a mean teacher, a best friend who wouldn't talk to her for a day. But Sophie was crying because of real things, adult things, and I couldn't protect my kid sister from the realities of adult grief any more than I could protect myself. I felt my eyes sting, and opened them very wide, trying not to blink, hoping tears would flow back into my eye socket.

"I just want to go h-h-h-home," she stuttered, her feet kicking at the glove compartment.

"Hey! Stop it, Soph, you're being such a baby. And this is our home now," I said through my teeth.

"No it's not!" She said, indignant. "And I'll be a baby all I want. I wish I was a baby like Ethan, because all he does is cry and nobody hates him."

"Nobody hates you, either."

"Yes they do! Everybody hates me. Nobody wants me here. All I do is make life difficult for everyone. I wish I was dead too!"

I almost hit the car in front of me at the red light. All things considered, her words shouldn't have made me so angry, but suddenly I was livid, as if she had pulled out a deep dark secret I was working hard to bury because I couldn't bear to look at it in the face.

 _Life is sacred,_ I repeated to myself _, life is a gift, and you're lucky you still have it._ I heaped another shovel of dirt over the beast that Sophie's words had pulled to the surface of my mind.

It didn't do any good. I exploded, from shame or anger, at her or ay my own weakness, I didn't really know. I wanted to scream and cry and hurt something, preferably myself. I wanted something to sting. God, or fate, or physics, or whatever principal it was that governed the world had been profoundly unfair to us. Nothing was going to let up, and no one was going to cut us any slack. And every time I'd begun to accept this fact as a norm of my life, someone would say something, like today, and the injustice of it all would blow up in my face.

"Are you crying?" Sophie asked, sniffling now.

"Just stop talking, okay? And put your seatbelt on."

I drove the rest of the way to the elementary school above the speed limit. Maybe part of me wondered what hydroplaning felt like, wondered if losing control of the metal box I was in might feel good in a mutated kind of way. The notion of losing control felt oddly powerful.

When I finally dropped Sophie off and pulled into the high school parking lot, I had to pause for a few moments to stop any more tears from overflowing. Finally composed, I took a deep breath, but that was when the smell hit me. A new began to form at the back of my throat.

My car was just like most of the other cars in the small parking lot, shiny and compact. It wasn't very old—just a couple of years—but my dad had loved road trips and driven it often. I didn't know how it was decided that I would get the car, and I certainly didn't want it, but now that it was mine, I didn't really have an excuse not to use it. It smelled like him, a minty and spicy sort of cologne. He liked to spray it into the AC vents, and every time a new wave of heat emerged, a puff of fragrance filled the car. It was like he had been driving it just yesterday. I turned the heat off and sat with the windows half down to gather myself before getting out.

"Hey, Kim," a deep, low voice called as I walked towards the school building. It was Paul Lahote, wearing his usual expression of vague amusement and nonchalance. I'd known Paul since I was a baby, when I had been too young to remember meeting him for the first time, but it had always been our mothers who were friends, not us. If I ever really needed anything, I supposed he'd be there for me. I certainly would be there for him, but that was just the product of playing on the same playground until we could make friends by ourselves. Paul had always been a good deal better at doing that than I was.

He was just getting out of his truck, with his bag slung over one shoulder. I stopped, and he slipped into stride next to me.

"Hey, Paul," I replied.

We walked in silence. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but I felt fidgety. Finally, Paul asked, "So, how are you doing?'

I bit my lip. This wasn't the first time Paul had asked me how I was. In fact, lately, he asked every time he saw me. But today, I didn't really feel like answering "yeah, thanks," the way I usually did. I didn't really have it in me to lie this morning. To myself, or Paul, or anyone.

"Well, not really, but thanks for asking."

He looked alarmed. "Is there anything I can do?"

I slowed my pace and looked at him for a moment. He was so handsome, with a strong nose and chiseled jaw. He was rash and often unreasonable, but I liked Paul. His short temper just meant he was passionate about a lot of things, and that was better than not caring, right? He seemed to care about me, at least in this moment.

"No," I said, "Probably not. I'll be okay, though, thanks."

"Yeah, of course," he said. More silent walking. "Well, I'll see you around, Kim."

I nodded and waved, and wondered if he'd ever ask again after the answer I just gave. Then I wondered if I cared whether he did or not.

My English teacher, Mrs. Rostow, looked like a fig. Not a fresh one, but a dried fig, the ones with thick wrinkled skin and a ballooned-out body. She was a sweet lady, but stern if she thought the class wasn't paying attention. Given that, as a rule, high school kids weren't really passionate about literature, she was always stern, and seemed constantly stressed out by her students' inattentiveness.

We had begun "A Midsummer Night's Dream" the week before, and it was intriguing, but every class, all I could think about Jared not sitting in the seat next to me. My last name being Connweller and his Cameron meant that he sat next to me in every class we had together, four out of seven. It wasn't like we spoke, though. Like with Paul, just because we had known each other since we were babies didn't mean we were friends. In fact, he never even acknowledged my presence like Paul did, so I supposed it was even worse that I was unreasonably in love with him.

It had been more than two weeks since I'd seen him, either in class or from my window. The last time had been the night we made eye contact as he had his arm around the girl in his room, and I wished I hadn't closed my curtain so abruptly. I didn't like that  _that_  particular image was the last I had seen of him.

His mom had been to school a week ago and picked up some schoolwork, so he did have a legitimate excuse. Otherwise, the school would have called the police or something. That being said, I couldn't imagine what he could possibly have that took him out of school for so long. Neither could anyone else, and the mystery was escalated because no one knew anything for sure. Not Paul, his best friend, or Tia, the girl he'd been hooking up with. Not even the teachers, who told us they couldn't say for privacy's sake, but in reality just didn't want to admit that they, too, were kept in the dark.

The rumors, of course, flew with vigor.

"I heard he's got mono. My mom talked to his mom at the supermarket the other day."

"It's definitely an STD, like, syphilis or something. You can't hook up with that many girls and still expect to be clean."

"I heard he dropped out and formed a gang with Sam Uley. They won't tell us because they're afraid everyone will follow his lead."

I gave my head a firm shake and tried to pay attention to Mrs. Rostow's lecture on Helena's soliloquy.  _Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, indeed,_  I thought,  _especially if the mind belongs to unreasonable and slightly unhinged Kimberly Connweller_. Now I was beginning to feel solidarity with a fictional Athenian noblewoman.  _Fantastic_.

At lunchtime, I headed into the library as I usually did, carrying the chicken Caesar wrap I'd packed that morning. There was a time in the past when I had had a few people to sit with at lunch, but it was hard to keep up friendships when all I wanted to do was curl up alone on my bed. You could say I hadn't been very sociable for the past year or so. And so, I ate in the library to avoid the conspicuous social suicide of sitting alone at lunch.

"Kim, you're not on a diet, are you?" The librarian, Mr. Counsell, asked as I pushed the door open and sat down at one of the small round tables close to his desk.

I raised an eyebrow, about to take my first bite. "Do I need to be?"

Mr. Counsell and I had known each other for a long time. He had been my English teacher all of middle school, and we always got along, in a bantering, witty way. I often joked that I was such a good student he followed me to high school, because he became the librarian here the year I started ninth grade. He looked like he was cut out to be a librarian. He had big glasses whose lenses looked like the bottoms of beer bottles, but, despite his being surrounded by endless books, he was always reading the latest magazine. He was doing that now.

"Well apparently, seventy-six percent of teenage girls are on some sort of diet at any given time," he informed me, then looked down again at the magazine he was holding. "Eighty-four percent think that they need to lose weight, and eighty-nine percent aren't happy with their bodies," he read.

"Wow," I replied, and took another bite. I didn't think I had weight to lose, but I was certainly amongst that eighty-nine percent. I was naturally skinny with a quick metabolism, and I didn't eat a lot. Unfortunately, that also meant that I didn't really have any curves. My breasts were small, but not tiny. My ass, however, was basically non-existent, and my hips were a bit too narrow for my shoulders. I had run track, once upon a time, and still went on runs, so at least my body had good muscle tone. I sighed. Dissatisfaction with one's body was the plight of the teenage girl, I supposed, so at least I could take comfort in that part of my psyche being normal.

"What's the reliable source you're getting this data from, Mr. Counsell?"

"Teen Vogue." He made a face as he flung it on the desk in front of him. "So, Miss Kimmy, how's it going for you?"

I chewed for a moment. "Alright," I said.

Mr. Counsell made a noncommittal hum at that, his bullshit detector immediately sounding. "Love problems with Jared Cameron?" he asked, crossing an ankle of his knee. "Hasn't he been absent for a good two weeks now?"

"Yeah, apparently his mom came to school to pick up his work, so he must be pretty sick or something." He nodded, and I sighed. "And you can't exactly call them love problems when the feelings aren't remotely reciprocated." The fact that the school librarian knew about my Jared obsession was probably some sort of warning sign about my precarious sanity.

"Of course you can," he replied. "But let me tell you, Miss Kimmy, you're too good for the little goon."

"You don't even know him," I said, feeling defensive. "And besides, he's, like, six foot two. I don't think "little" is an adequate description."

"I know he waltzes around this school with girls dangling off him like he's some kind of God, "he said. "And believe me, that has a way of getting to someone's head."

From the story I'd heard, Mr. Counsell was quite the catch when he was attending school here. He was still good-looking, thirty years and several gray hairs later, but more in a paternal, safe way, like he couldn't hurt a fly. Jared could never look like that, not if he lived to be ninety. His looks are more chiseled and dangerous, and his eyes were so intense. But anyway, Mr. Counsell had gotten a little cocky, and that cockiness has led to several years of his thinking he was something he wasn't. It took him five extra years, he'd said, to figure out he didn't like women. Now he lived in a condo in Forks with his partner, who used to work with my dad.

"Yeah," I said. "Well, I guess he's got a new girlfriend or something, because I saw him with some girl before he stopped coming to school."

"Screw him," Mr. Counsell said decisively. "You get yourself out of here next year, go to Harvard, Penn State, Duke, wherever. And Jared's going to be another boy who lives his whole life in La Push because he never had the opportunity to leave."

"I don't know. He's pretty smart," I said. 'Pretty smart' didn't quite cover it. I got nearly perfect grades, but I knew that Jared did too. When you sit next to someone in most of your classes, year after year, it isn't hard to get a peek or two at his test scores and essay grades.

"Mark my words, Kimberly," Mr. Counsell said thoughtfully, "That boy's going to be in La Push for a long while."

And somehow, I suddenly got the feeling that he knew exactly what he was talking about.


	3. Chapter 3

Our mothers used to have lunch parties when we were kids. La Push was tiny, so of course all the moms knew each other, and most of them were friends. They would meet for lunch, and while they sat and talked all afternoon we, the children, would get to play all afternoon. Once, when I was nine, we were all gathered at the Blacks' house—the old, blue one they had lived in before Sarah Black died and Rachel and Rebecca left. Jared was there, and Paul, and Tia, and a few other kids our age. Jacob had his friends over too, but they were younger than we were, and didn't play with us much.

I had always been a quiet child, introverted, and even though I liked to run I didn't like running around with the other, more outgoing kids. But that day, we were playing some variation of team tail tag, and Paul had convinced me to be on his team. We had been banished to the yard so we wouldn't run into furniture, but what none of the moms noticed was that Rachel Black's science project was drying under the spruce tree. For a long time we played, colorful scarves tucked into our waistbands to serve as tails. In the middle of the game, when we were all clumped together, trying to reach each other's scarves, someone pushed me, on purpose or by accident, I didn't know. I crashed right into the paper-mâché volcano along with two other kids, effectively knocking it off its base.

At that moment Jacob and his friend Quil Ateara came outside. When he saw the ruined project, he screamed. Out came the moms, with Rachel and Rebecca following after, and when Rachel saw what had happened she burst into tears.

"Who was it?" Rachel demanded between sobs, "Which one of you did this? I spent all weekend on that!" Rachel Black had never been the type to quietly whimper in a corner alone, and even at twelve she wouldn't easily forgive and forget.

"Kim! It was Kim. I saw her!" I heard one of the girls say, and I froze. I could feel the blood draining from my face.

"Yeah," someone else—it may have been Tia—chimed in. "She fell right onto it."

I could feel my mom glaring at me, and I looked up at her, about to protest. Before she could open her mouth to question me, however, I heard Jared's voice from behind me.

"No, it wasn't Kim. It was me. I ran too hard and crashed into it." If I hadn't been biting my tongue to keep the tears back my mouth would have dropped open into a perfect "O".  _What is this boy doing? Is he defending me?_

"I'm sorry Rachel," Jared continued, stepping in front of me. He said it with so much authority that none of the other kids contradicted him. I supposed I should have corrected him, but I was shy, and this beautiful boy who was taking the blame for me made me too confused to say anything.

"Oh," Rachel said, only sniffling now. She didn't seem so mad anymore, and the rest of the afternoon passed without any other catastrophe. I didn't feel like playing with the other kids anymore, so I sat and helped Rachel restart her project. She didn't know I had broken it, but I still felt that I needed to make it up to her.

When it was time to leave, I finally worked up the courage to talk to Jared.

"Why did you tell them you broke the volcano?" I asked outright.

"You saw Rachel," he said, shrugging, "She would've have been really mad at you." He was right. I could still imagine Rachel's angry, teary face.

"But why wasn't she mad at you?" I asked. That didn't seem right.

He smirked.

"She's friends with my sister Anna, so she's at my house a lot. Once I told her she was prettier than Anna, so now she thinks I'm pretty cool."

I had giggled, feeling giddy.

"Thanks, Jared."

That was the day I knew I loved Jared Cameron. That night, at home, I wrote "Kimberly Cameron" everywhere on my journal and drew hearts around all of them.

* * *

 

I stared at the journal in my hands, remembering the day I had drawn all over the cover.

That afternoon, in my attic, I had been trying to find a particular pair of fuzzy socks in the boxes under my bed. Opening one, I had seen my old notebooks from elementary school, and was overcome with the urge to look through them. That was when I'd found the purple, glittery journal with the embarrassing writing.

I sighed. What a strange person I was. The boy barely acknowledged my presence now, and here I was, somehow still feeling the same way I did when I was nine and had dreamed about marrying him.

"Kim?" I jumped at Penelope's muffled voice coming from the bottom of the ladder. I dropped the purple journal on top of the notebooks and shoved the box back under the bed, my face flushing as if Penelope had actually seen the thing. I opened the attic door and popped my head out.

"What is it, Penny?"

"Would you mind running to the grocery store and getting cough syrup? Sophie isn't feeling well. I'd go, but Ethan just spilled orange juice everywhere."

My brow creased. I wasn't too worried about her being sick—it was flu season after all—but I was worried that she was pretending so she could get out of going to school.  _God, I hope she doesn't start to block out her friends at school like I did._

"Oh, sure," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "Is she okay?"

"I'm not sure. She looks tired and sounds pretty congested."

I was secretly relieved. If she actually sounded sick, she probably really had the flu. Then I bit my lip at how messed up it was that I was glad my sister was actually sick and not pretending to be.

I pulled into the grocery store parking lot just as the sky was darkening and the street lamps were flickering on.

As I walked towards the fluorescent glow of the sliding supermarket door, several people in the parking lot waved at me. They knew my face even if I didn't know theirs. I was the town charity case, after all. I waved back, my mouth pulled back into a grimace that, I hoped, looked like a smile in the failing light.

"Damn it, Jared, you're going and that's final."

Everyone in the parking lot turned at the very gruff, very commanding voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. At that moment, Sam Uley burst out of the supermarket door with two heavy bags of groceries in each hand. Jared followed behind, also carrying four bags, looking none too pleased with Sam.

My heart skittered, maybe even stopped for a second or two. I halted my steps so I was standing in the shadow of a street lamp, just in case they saw me. I stood very still and tried to eavesdrop on the exchange, but after the initial outburst, they both spoke in angry whispers. Sam stood at the door of his car and Jared stood five feet away for a long, silent moment.

I took the moment to look at Jared— _really_  look at him—because, after all, I hadn't had the privilege in over two weeks. That was when I took a sharp inhale of breath and quickly covered my mouth to stifle the sound.

He had changed. Gone was the Jared I remembered, the one whose every feature I had memorized. In the place of that carefree, playful boy was a man who looked like he'd lived through decades of his life in the past weeks. His hair was no longer long and wavy, but cropped short and square. He had grown at least four inches, probably more. And his muscles! He hadn't been skinny before, but now I could see the indents his muscles made through his clothes. His arms looked thick and strong, and overall, he just felt bigger, even though I wasn't standing close to him.

 _Sick, huh,_  I thought incredulously.  _I'd love to know what kind of illness made someone fill out like that._

Then, before I could look any closer, the staring contest was over. Jared got into Sam's passenger seat, and the pair drove away. I frowned, reflecting on their conversation, then thought back to the rumors I'd heard floating around. Maybe Jared really did start a gang with Sam. The exchange I'd just witnessed would certainly have explained it _. Sam Uley ever used that voice on me I'd probably join his gang too._

And where was Sam ordering Jared to go? I pondered over this as I paid for the cough syrup and headed home. Then I thought I knew. Could he have been telling Jared to go to school? Suddenly, I was excited in a nervous, jittery way. Jared didn't look sick, which meant that he was probably fine. Would he be back at school tomorrow? He had to be. What else could Sam have been referring to? As I pulled into the driveway, I was in such a good mood that my rational self didn't have the heart to remind me how obsessive and ridiculous I was being.

Chris was home, and we had been sitting at dinner for less than three minutes when Ethan shrieked from his chair. Penelope deftly scooped him up and bounced him up and down in her arms as she headed towards their bedroom. Chris and I looked after her in silence, while Sophie picked at her plate. She really was starting to look sick. I returned to my food.

A few minutes later, Penelope returned and slipped into her chair.

"He's napping now," she informed us. "He had a rough day at daycare, poor thing. He missed his daddy. Good thing you got some play time in with him before he got too tired, Chris."

I glanced at Chris, and he looked…proud. Proud of his temper-tantrum-throwing one-year-old who cried all the time because he was spoiled enough to know that he could get what he wanted whenever he shrieked. Sophie rolled her eyes, thinking the same thing I was, and got up from the table.

"I'm really sick," she announced. "I'm going to bed."

"Kim, you know you have that therapist appointment tomorrow," Chris said when Sophie had left. "Five o'clock. I'll pick you up at school."

Chris clearly didn't trust me to make it there by myself. Smart guy. I probably would have ditched.

"Thanks, but I can get there fine on my own," I said.

"No, I'll take you," he insisted. Just like I knew he would. "It's no trouble. I don't want you getting lost.

 _How thoughtful._  "Whatever, Chris."

* * *

 

It was snowing when I woke up the next morning, the first snow of the winter. The ground was white, meaning that it was sticking, and everything looked promising and new. Even though most things were dead in the winter, snow had always been a sign of life in my eyes, as if all the possibilities in the world were laying in wait under the clean, fresh whiteness, about to emerge.

In the kitchen, the news was on low while Chris read the newspaper with his glasses perched on his nose. He looked like Dad in his morning routine, wise and serious, almost paternal. Chis was a defense attorney in Sequim and hated his job The pay wasn't very good—he was just an associate—and he had to drive over seventy miles every morning. When I'd asked why he didn't just quit, he'd given me a look, as if I was incredibly naïve, and mumbled something about making junior partner soon.

"Sophie's not going to school today," he told me. "She has a fever this morning. Probably has the flu."

I nodded. I had been expecting that after I saw her at dinner last night.

I didn't know how I had forgotten, but now was about the time of year that Sophie normally got sick. Every winter, since she was born, she'd always had a few sick days each year when winter rolled around. When Sophie first started school, she had said that sick days were the best days. Mom would stay home with her and they would bake all day long, then watch the bad comedies on daytime TV. Then, when I came home from school, I'd have all sorts of baked goods waiting for me, and I'd eat them as Sophie told me about her wonderful sick day. It had been a winter tradition of sorts for us.

Funny. Wasn't the thing about traditions that they were supposed to last forever?

In the school parking lot, I spotted Jared talking to Courtney Loquato and Vince Pine. Though Courtney and Vince were smiling, laughing, gesturing with their hands, Jared seemed detached from the conversation.

So he had come back. I smiled a little half smile, and felt my pulse speed up.

"Jared, mono? Really? I had mono and I was out for, like, all of three days," Courtney said. She as one of those girls you couldn't stereotype: everyone knew her, but she wasn't a dictionary definition of "popular" because she was friendly with everyone. She got good grades, but wasn't nerdy, as if school came naturally to her. She was the president of debate club, but was proud of the title. Anything she did, even things that would have been embarrassing for anyone else, she did proudly, and without embarrassment. Her confidence only made everyone like her more.

"You know my mom," Jared said.

And then he stopped talking.

I shivered at the disturbing coolness in his voice. Somehow, it sounded so incredibly foreign to me that I had to look at his face for a few seconds to make sure it was really him. He had really changed so much, and I was glad I had gotten my chance to gawk at him the night before, hidden in the shadow, so that I wasn't doing it now. Now I was just staring. Not gawking. Jared seemed angry, I thought, and tired. His features were frozen and harsh-looking. It didn't look like he was trying to wear a mean or threatening expression. His face was just so cold and uncaring that it me look away. My heart ached a little to see him today. His stoney features made me sad, somehow.

"Well, you're going to have a ton of makeup work," Courtney said sympathetically. "I'd offer to help you study, but I'm sure Tia's got that covered." She smiled.

That was the other thing about Courtney Loquato. She was smart and pretty and funny, and hung out with boys as if she was one of the guys. Of course, she also slept around with these same boys, but she was so nonchalant about it that no one could find anything malicious to say about her. Over the summer, she had been hooking up with Jared, but she stopped when school started because her best friend, Tia Summers, liked him. A few weeks later Tia was getting with Jared, but that didn't stop Courtney from continuing to be friends with him. That was just the type of girl she was. I wondered for a moment if that girl I had seen in Jared's room two weeks ago was Tia, but I didn't want to think about it.

I walked passed the trio as fast as I could, making sure my face was turned enough so they couldn't see who I was. I didn't want Jared to see me at the same time he saw Courtney. I didn't want to think about the comparison he would inevitably make.

I was the first person in my first period Psych class. Everyone else was buzzing about in the halls or outside, chatting with friends, but clearly, I didn't have that option. I dropped my bag down on my chair, but missed somehow, and my backpack fell open on the ground, spilling all my books everywhere. Some girl who had just entered the room gave me a funny look.

I sighed and knelt down to gather my things.

If you ask any grown-up person, they'll tell you that what you think of yourself is all that matters. Who cares what other people think? Who are they to you? But ask any high school student, and the response you'll get is almost unanimously different. All that matters is what others think of you.

Even I cared, because, despite my preferring to be alone, despite my conscious efforts not to interact with my peers, I still didn't want people to think I was a freak. In this environment, day after day, how could I not be self-conscious?

I remembered the time that I told had my mom I wasn't pretty. She'd just smiled at me, and told me that I would realize when I was grown up by looking in the mirror and seeing just my reflection, not with judgment or criticism, but with love and acceptance. I hadn't believed her. I still didn't. In fact, I wondered if any girl could ever do that. When I looked in the mirror, my first instinct was always to cringe. Wispy hair, plain features. And then I'd look closer and see everything else that was wrong, like how my cheekbones were too wide for my small eyes to balance them out. I'd think to myself,  _this is who I am. This is what people see when they see me._

* * *

 

Something was wrong.

I could feel it, an almost imperceptible tugging at my navel. It was that feeling of standing on a rug that could be pulled out from under your feet at any moment, but worse, because I couldn't move off of it. I had no idea what it meant.

Sam would have told me, I reassured myself, if vampires were near. He would have warned me about this feeling if it meant anything. It was probably just another unhinged side-effect of this whole wolf thing.

When you shift forms—literally phase from a man to a bear-sized wolf—your muscles become strong enough to endure almost anything, but your joints are loose and awkward. Sam told me it would go away after a few weeks, but for now, I was stuck walking around feeling like I had the consistency of a jellyfish. In my human form, I felt weak, vulnerable, and unprepared. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to phase when danger was near—but I was more afraid of phasing on accident.

I'd told Sam last night that I needed more time to learn to control myself, and I'd nearly punched him, but I could tell he'd had faith in me. "Jared," he'd said that morning, "you are going to be fine. You're not a temperamental guy; just keep your cool. You need to go back to school, especially because people are starting to talk. Besides, with Paul newly phased, it'll seem too weird if you're both missing at the same time."

I had sighed very loudly. Paul had come by the night before, after repeatedly trying and failing to find me for the past two weeks. He'd finally caught me, pissed off and demanding to know what I was doing. I hadn't known how to respond. Sam had said that I couldn't spend more time around anyone than was truly necessary, to prevent accidents, so I ended up telling Paul I couldn't hang out with him for a while.

That made him very, very pissed off. So pissed off, in fact, that he phased right then and there.

Now I smirked, remembering. Paul, my best friend since I didn't know when, had always had a temper. He was a great guy, but I wouldn't want to be on his bad side. As a shape-shifting wolf, a bad temper wasn't very useful unless you wanted to remain in your furry state forever. It had taken me two days to phase back. After the first hour or so, I wasn't pissed, just scared, but it was still hard to come back. Paul, on the other hand, had kept me and Sam up the entire night, screaming profanities at us in our heads. We couldn't really abandon him. Even now, as I was back at school, Sam was running around the reservation with Paul, trying to explain things, trying to calm him down. I bet he'd spend a whole week as a wolf before he could be Zen enough to phase back.

"Jared," Tia said, making me look away from the window. I had made it through half the morning, and now the only thing standing between me and lunch was this math class. I was starving, but, never a rude guy, I focused on her face, trying to look attentive.

She was pretty. Very pretty. She was a very attractive girl who everyone liked and was friends with my friends. That was why I was hooking up with her. Plus, I liked her. We always had a great time, because she had enough self-respect to tell me exactly what she wanted or didn't want to do.

Before all this, I'd been thinking about asking Tia out and making this thing we had official. I knew she liked me—after all, her crush on me was the reason Courtney had stopped coming over. At first, I hadn't understood why Courtney had told me we couldn't hook up anymore, but then I noticed Tia flirting with me. It didn't take long for me to catch on to what Tia wanted. Like I said. She was very good at communicating that.

Sure, I wasn't crazy about her, but knowing that she liked me made me feel like a jackass for not putting a label on what we had. It was even worse because she never pressured me into defining our relationship. Inwardly, I sighed, and couldn't look her in the eye anymore. How could I have a relationship with her now, when I was in danger of exploding into a giant dog at the slightest provocation?

"Can you help me with this problem?" she said, leaning in close to my side. I knew for a fact that she didn't need my help—when we'd first started hooking up she had been helping me with my math homework. But I glanced at her paper anyway and found myself confronted with an up-close-and-personal cleavage shot.

"Courtney said you had mono. I hope I didn't give that to you, Jared," she said, and then grinned, because she'd spoken so loudly that everyone around us had heard. I realized that it was probably intentional.

"Yeah, well, who knows?" I said. What else was there to say?

"So, I'm throwing a party Friday," she continued. "I'm inviting everyone. I'm turning seventeen."

"Wow," I said, trying to sound interested. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," she said curtly; obviously she wasn't just chatting me up for well wishes. "So, will you come?"

"Sure, sure," I said, as noncommittally as I could.

"And tell Paul to come too." I snickered to myself at the thought. Yeah, I'll let him know if he can keep himself together long enough.

The bell rang and Tia forgot all about the problem she had meant to get my help on. She waited while I packed up my things and then slipped her hand into mine as we walked to the lunchroom. My surprise at her action made me take an extra second to react , and before I could remove her hand from mine, she gasped loudly.

"Jared, your hand is burning!" she cried in alarm, her eyebrows scrunched together as she looked at me.

My mouth froze around words I was forbidden to tell her; forbidden to tell anyone, really. I didn't know how to get out of this one—whenever I'd questioned Sam about what to do if my cover was blown, he'd always replied, "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."  _Well, here I am at the Goddamn bridge. Where are you, Sam? What happened to_ us _crossing the bridge, huh?_

"Are you still sick? Do you need to go to the nurse?" Tia lifted her hand and I caught it just before it made contact with my forehead, which I knew for a fact was over a hundred and five degrees.

"I'm fine," I said quickly. "Really. I was sitting on my hands during the lecture. That's why they're so hot."

Even as I said this I began to think: Tia was pretty easygoing, clearly, and if she freaked out over my body temperature then other girls would too. I wasn't at liberty to tell any of them my secret. Actually, I was literally bound by blood to keep it, and the extreme body temperature wasn't something I had an excuse for. Unless the rare thing that happened to Sam happened to me too—and it probably wasn't going to—would I never be able to be with a girl again? Ever?

Thoughts like this can really upset a teenage guy, especially hormonal ones who have been going through a pretty tough time. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became all over again at this entire situation. I started to shake, a slow build-up that started in the tips of my fingers and gradually made its way up through my arms. I knew in the seconds that followed that I would need to calm down, or else I was going to do the unthinkable. But I was sore, and pissed, and worried—and the feeling in my stomach wasn't going away. It was getting worse every second, like the threat was getting closer and closer

"Jared," Tia was saying, but I barely heard her. "Jared? Jared?"

Ten, nine, eight—I could stop this, I knew I could—m seven, six—Sam had faith in me, I wouldn't fail him—five, four, three—but it was so hard, and maybe it would be easier not to fight it—two, one.

I almost did it. Exploded, snapped, whatever you wanted to call it.

Almost. But then I felt something that could only be described as a sweet tropical breeze brush past me in the crowded hallway. It was refreshing against my arm, and suddenly the calm was melting through me. It felt good, breathing in the scent of mangoes and musk…

It took me a moment to realize that the Godsend was really a person—a girl, to be exact, who had walked by me in the hallway. I snapped my head around, trying to look for her, but there were too many people around for me to find her scent again.

Feeling dejected, I finally heard Tia's concerned voice. I focused on her again, blinked, then mumbled that I was fine. We headed off to the lunch room.

All I could think about during lunch was how divine that encounter made me feel. I didn't understand it. I had been very close to exploding. I knew that for sure. If I had been anywhere else, I definitely would have. So what was it about this girl's scent that calmed me down so quickly? I wolfed down my three plates of food in silence. Sam was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

After lunch I hurried to my English class, not wanting to spend time with Tia or anyone else. I didn't want any more questions about my new physical state.

This was actually my favorite class. Despite what everyone said, about Mrs. Rostow being uptight and strict, I liked that she was really passionate about what she taught. I liked her in general. She was nice to me. When I walked in, I immediately headed to her desk. She wasn't pleased that I'd missed so much class, but when I told her that I'd been keeping up with the new Shakespeare play, her eyes lit up.

"Make sure you get notes from someone, Mr. Cameron," she said, then nodded towards my desk. "Have a seat, then. Let's get started."

Instinctively, I followed her nod and looked over at my seat. And then I saw her. My eyes locked into hers and the world stopped.

The rug that had been threatening to move all morning had finally been pulled out from underneath me, but I did not fall. Suddenly, everything I was didn't matter anymore. Anything I'd ever worried about was gone. My family, my friends, this new pack I was a part of—they all faded into the background. It was like a veil had been lifted from over my eyes, the veil that had clouded my judgment. It was just gone. I saw clearly now, and all I could see was her. It was like I was dead, but no! because I'd never been so alive. It was the feeling of caring so much for one person that you didn't have enough space to care about yourself.

I understood the world and all of its complexities now. I understood why my feet were planted firmly on the ground. I knew why I was breathing, why I was born. It was all so clear. I was made for her.

She was the sun, the Earth, the moon and all of the planets. She was air and gravity and water and sustenance. She was my heart and lungs and organs and everything else I needed to live.

She was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for tuning in! I hope this chapter wasn't very confusing to read because of the shifts in flashback and point of view. Please let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's back," Ella told me in second-period Spanish that morning. She sat next to me, in a fortunate seating arrangement that may have saved the last shreds of any friendship we had. It probably helped that Jared wasn't there to distract me from speaking to her.

We both knew who she was referring to. I had been Ella's friend long enough that she knew about my girlish crush before I stopped bringing it up. Back when it was just something we'd giggled about. Before the fact that he never noticed me had started to hurt.

I stopped rummaging through my backpack and looked up. I couldn't find my Spanish textbook, and realized, with an annoyed purse of my lips, that it was in the passenger seat of my car, which I hadn't driven that morning because Chris had dropped me off. I had my shrink appointment today. He was picking me up, so it would have been inconvenient if I had my car at school. I shoved down my annoyance at the entire situation.

"I know," I replied, and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, can I share your textbook? Forgot mine."

"Yeah, sure. Anyway, I've heard gang, cult, steroids, government-agency conspiracy, and brainwashing. You?"

I smiled. "Same, minus the government conspiracy. That sounds interesting. Which department?"

Ella shrugged and then laughed, her mouth wide open. Ella had a belly laugh that was contagious, and soon I was laughing too.

"I miss you, Kim," she said once she'd stopped. She pushed the textbook between us so I could see better, then smiled sadly.

Yeah, I miss me too.

At lunch, I briefly considered sitting with Ella and her friends, some of whom I used to be friendly with, too. I stared at their table for a long minute after I'd gotten my food. I saw a girl lift up a banana and make a joke while holding it in a funny way. Ella laughed.

I slipped out to go the library before Ella could meet my eyes.

I snapped my head away and stared down at the cover of my "A Midsummer Night's Dream" as intently as I could. Even so, my cheeks burned, probably very conspicuously. I rested my cheek in my hand, trying to hide my face with my fingers.

 _What are doing, Kimberly?_  My mind was screaming.  _I can_ not _believe you just made eye contact again. Now he definitely knows you were staring._

I had looked up when Jared entered the room, and of course, being the crazed obsessive I was, I'd forgotten to look away. I stared as he spoke to Mrs. Rostow. I kept staring even as she nodded towards his empty chair next to mine. Then, it was too late to look away, because his eyes had locked into mine.

And stayed locked with mine. I had no idea how long we looked at each other. All I knew, when I had finally come to my senses, was that he hadn't looked away. So I had to look away. His gaze was so intense it made my breath heavy.

Even as I tried very, very hard to stare down at my book, my eyes wide and brows knotted with horror at myself, I was aware that he was still staring.

He was walking towards me now. It was as if I could sense his aura gliding closer and closer to me, and as he slipped into the seat next to me, I was once again overwhelmed by his warm being and piney scent, just as I had been when I'd brushed by him before lunch. Unconsciously, my tense muscles relaxed. My body basked in his glowing presence.

"Hi," he whispered, and just like that, everything in my body was tight and buzzing all over again.  _What is going on right now? Is he speaking to me? Did I fall into some rabbit-hole, alternate universe this morning?_

Hesitantly, I turned my head up to face him, feeling each vertebrate in my neck twist with individual jerky movements, and looked him in the eye again.

"Hi," I whispered back, and a new flood of blood darkened my blush.  _How is this even happening? Do I say something else? Do I look away now? Is he going to say something else?_

Fortunately, he did speak again. Unfortunately, the words that came out of his mouth effectively ripped out my heart, butchered it into very tiny pieces, and threw the bloody mass back down into the deepest pit of my stomach. It landed with a dull, aching thud.

"Are you new here? I'm—"

"Jared," I cut him off, my voice flat and limp like a dead fish. "Yeah, I know."

Back when I was little, I'd been able to convince myself that, if I believed in something hard enough, it would come true. If I wanted something badly enough, I would get it. I could will things into existence.

The thing is, you just can't change what's real. All the atoms that make up all the realities in the world won't be manipulated by human will, no matter how hard you try. Of course, this was something I knew now. After everything that had happened to me and everything I'd lost, I was rational. I had learned my lessons. Yet, somehow, up until this moment, I was still telling myself that Jared would acknowledge me, that he would care about me one day, if I just wished for it hard enough. We were meant for each other. Up until this moment, I could tell this to myself, and in my head, it was still true.

But of course, in the real world, Jared had never paid me any attention. Even after sixteen years, he didn't know who the hell I was.

I could barely breathe as I stood there, watching her—the goddess.  _My_  goddess. Even from the front of the room I could smell her, the same divine scent that had saved my sanity in the hall that morning.

The pull at my navel was stronger than ever. I had to be near her, next to her, around her,  _touch her_ ; my feet moved of their own accord. She needed to be in my arms, where I could be sure that she would be shielded from all the bad things in the world.

_Is she okay?_

_Why does she look so sad?_

_Why did she turn away from me?_

_Did something bad happen to her? Had someone upset her? Is she sick?_

_What does she need? I'd give her anything she needs—I'd find a way to get it to her._

She was the most precious thing in the world, and the most vulnerable. Bad things could happen to her. Bad people could hurt her. If I didn't pay attention for one second, she could be gone.

I couldn't handle thinking about that. It was too much. The world just couldn't go on without her. My world wouldn't even exist.

I floated into my seat next to her, awed, almost blinded, by her very being.

"Hi," I whispered, and angels sang as she looked up at me again. Her eyes— _oh man, those bourbon eyes are going kill me_ —clicked into mine and again, I struggled to breath.

"Hi," she whispered back. Her flushed russet cheeks darkened another shade of pink. I almost choked.

"Are you new here? I'm—"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I got the sense, from the sudden expression of hurt and disappointment on her flawless face, that I had made the worst mistake of my life.

"Jared. Yeah, I know."

Her words, cold and deflated, confirmed my suspicion. The thought that I'd caused her pain was like a rusty ball and chain dropping into my gut, cold and so pungently metallic that I could taste the rust on my tongue.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but for a long moment couldn't seem to bring the words out. I just stared at her, petrified into silence. Finally, she said, almost sighing, "I've known you all my life."

I felt the blood draining from my face as she turned around. She oriented her body away from me and crossed her legs. My insides were twisting painfully around themselves, and I could almost hear my wolf whimpering.  _Why am I literally the world's biggest fuck-up?_  I was panicking, my heart racing, my breath shallow, and I could feel the shake start again in my core. What have I done?

_Come on, Jared, keep it together. Deep breaths. Take deep breaths. Calm down._

Her scent filled my nostrils, and soon I could breathe normally. What a magical human she was.  _Good. This is good. Now use your brain, Jared. Let's start with remembering her name. You've known her your whole life. How are you going to get her to talk to you again?_

And so, as Mrs. Rostow lectured on the tangled, spell-induced love in “A Midsummer Night's Dream”, I stared at the object of my imprint and picked my brain for what I, or, rather, Clear-Headed Pre-Wolf Jared, knew about her. I had already screwed up my chance at a first impression. I had to redeem myself somehow.

When class ended, she shot up from her seat, and was about to walk away even before the bell stopped ringing. From my chair, I grabbed her arm and felt her stiffen.

"Wait, Kim. Please."

She inhaled, audibly, and turned to face me, still standing. She wasn't tiny, but she was on the small side, both in build and in height. Even standing up, her eyes were nearly level with mine, but now she avoided my gaze. I was still holding on to her, her sweater soft and smooth against my palm, and suddenly I was aware of how small her forearm was in my large hand. I could completely close my grip around her elbow, and it made her feel all the more fragile. A new wave of guilt nearly overwhelmed me.

"Oh, so now you know what my name is?"

I paused, planning my words carefully before I spoke.

"I don't know what came over me earlier, but I calmed down and thought about it. Of course I know your name. You're Kim Connweller. I sit next to you in English, History, Art, and Physics. Recently, you moved across the way from me. You used to wear pigtails everyday in elementary school. When I was eight, you told me I had cooties, but later, in secret, you told me you had been lying, and that you were sure I didn't have cooties." I let out a little laugh, and was very pleased to see her respond with tiny tug at the corner of her mouth. "You telling me that that made me so confident with girls later on."

Her face fell at my mention of being confident with girls, and for the third time today I wished it were possible to literally kick my own ass.

"Anyway, like you said, we've known each other our whole lives. You, me, and Paul. You're friends with Paul, right? I see you guys talking sometimes."

Kim looked at me with her left eyebrow raised in a perfect arch.  _God damn, that is hot. Jared, rein yourself in. Now is_ so _not the appropriate time for this bullshit._

"Wow, that was quite extensive, Jared. Sounds like you were paying attention in class."  _I was paying rapt attention in class_ , I wanted to respond.  _To you_. I decided that saying this now, given the circumstances, would not have helped my case. It would probably have scared her off.

Instead, I continued my attempt to explain myself. "You just looked really different today. I didn't realize who you were. But now I've snapped out of it, I promise. I know who you are. I've always known who you are." I shrugged helplessly. I hoped that the look I gave her was one of sincerity, because I sure was trying my damn hardest to forget the fact that I had almost asked her name a hour ago.

There was a dense, silent moment as she stared at me with unreadable eyes. Then, slowly, she pulled her arm out of my hand. The action wasn't harsh, like she was angry or trying to get away from me, but careful, as if she didn't mind me holding her and wanted me to know it, even as she was pulling away.

"I have a test next period," she said evenly. Then she pursed her perfect lips, gave me one last, expressionless glance, and walked out of the classroom.

### ***

I lied. I didn't have a test last period. As I sat in Calculus class, my teacher and his methods of differentiation droning on in the background, I tried to sort through the mess of tangled emotions my encounter with Jared had created in my brain. I hadn't been aware that buoyant disappointment was a viable emotion, but that was the only way I could classify what I felt. Or, perhaps, I was just confused about how to feel.

Yes, he'd smiled at me. And spoken to me. But then again, he had asked me if I was new. Which meant that he was going to ask my name. Which meant he didn't know it. Which meant he'd never paid attention to me. Never cared about me.

But then again, at the end of class, by some magic he  _did_  know my name. And he remembered the interactions we'd had. And that I used to have pigtails. Which meant that he'd always noticed me.  _Which meant that he cared._

I frowned at that last conclusion.  _Silly Kimberly. Just because he's noticed you before doesn't mean he cares about you._  My frown deepened.

"Ms. Connweller," Mr. Foglino paused his lesson and called on me in his monotonous, accented voice. None of us knew exactly where he was from. He'd literally shown up a few years ago, out of thin air, as if a last name like Foglino was common on an Indian reservation in Washington state. He was clearly Italian—the accent was faint but discernable in his speech—but weren't Italians, as a rule, supposed to be animated and lively? Mr. Foglino sounded like he'd rather have been decomposing, because rotting into the ground would have been far more interesting than teaching us math. His constant expression made me think he was actually already decomposing, because his face never really moved. Even stranger was that everything he talked about—every word problem, example, or, essentially, every word that was unrelated to numbers—had to do with a city called Weston, in Florida.

For a few weeks there had been a lot of speculation and gossip around him, but Mr. Foglino was so incredibly dull that soon the rumors died down, and now he was just a mysterious fixture in his math classroom.

"You look confused. What is not clear here?" He had turned around and noticed my frown.  _Just what I needed. Thanks Mr. Fogs. Now everyone's staring._

I blushed and cursed myself for blushing. "Nope, not confused. I just forgot my contacts this morning," I muttered. Another lie.  _Just lies, lies, lies for you today, Kimmy. Jared isn't a very good influence on you._

He turned around and continued to drone. I tried to pay attention. Usually, I liked math. Loved it, even. I was a math person, or, rather, I had turned into one in the past couple of years. Numbers made sense, didn't hurt you, didn't die on you, and couldn't make you feel worthless. They were perfect for someone like me.

Today, however, it wasn't happening. I sighed. This was just review, and I knew all the differentiation methods anyway. Instead, I let my mind wander to my tangled emotions again, and thoughts of Jared's blazing eyes locked in mine floated around in my mind until the school bell rang.

As promised, Chris was in the parking lot at 3:32pm, leaning against his car, the passenger seat door open and waiting for me. We drove the seventy minutes it took to get to Port Angeles. The drive was awkward, just like every other moment Chris and I spent together now. It hadn't always been that way. He was a good deal older than I was—nine years—which actually made us closer than we would have otherwise been. We hadn't spent a lot of time together growing up, so I was always the cute little sister whom he liked to tease on the holidays; he was the big brother I hero-worshipped. I supposed it was harder to keep up that sort of attitude now that I had to sit down at his dinner table every night and make small talk with him and his uptight wife.

"So, what, are you going to go home and come back for me when I'm done?" I asked.

"Nah, I'm going to wait in the city. I need a new tie for this work party coming up, so I'll go shopping for a bit."

I nodded, and we were silent again.

"What am I supposed to tell her, exactly?" I spoke up again when I couldn't take the awkward silence any longer,

"I don't know," Christ replied. "Tell her your brother forced you to come. Tell her whatever you feel like. Therapists can work off of anything, right?"

"I don't know. This was your idea."

Despite my words, I was nervous. I had wanted to look presentable when I got ready that morning, because I didn't want Dr. Sharpe to judge me. I'd dressed up nicely in my crisp, cream-colored sweater and dark-wash jeans. My hair was pulled into a sleek and shiny ponytail rather than its usual messy bun. Now, as I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror, I wondered in passing if that was what Jared had meant when he'd said I looked different. Did a change of clothes and hair really make me unrecognizable?

_No, Kimberly, obviously it doesn't. He was obviously fishing for excuses. People do that, you know, when they're alleviating awkward conversations. You have a hard time recognizing it because you don't have conversations anymore._

My thoughts were very quickly sliding down into territory I did not want to touch. I decided I wasn't going to think to about Jared anymore. Not today, anyway. I couldn't imagine anything worse than having to talk to the shrink about my irrational obsession of a crush.

Finally, Chris pulled up in front of a shingled turquoise house with a dark grey roof and a glass-paneled cedar door. There were small trees and shrubbery in the front yard which, I imagined, would have been vibrantly green and blooming with flowers in spring. Now, they looked barren and dead against the cheerful color of the walls. The fact that I was being forced to come here every Tuesday for God knows how long really grated on my nerves. The sad attempt at cheerfulness didn't help the situation.

The therapist's name was Dr. Sharpe. It wasn't the best name for someone whose job it was to soothe her patients' problems, but I supposed her name was out of her control. I knocked on the door, and a minute or so later a young woman—I swore she couldn't have been older than twenty five—with a strong brow and deep-set eyes opened the door. She had tight, blonde curls and wore pink lipstick. Her suit managed simultaneously to be professional and stylish, so very different from the lame pantsuits with shoulder pads that Penny always wore.

"Kimberly?" I nodded and gave a small, polite smile.

"You're Dr. Sharpe, right?"

"Yes! Hi, hi, so good to meet you, Kimberly!" She shook my hand with enthusiasm and ushered me in. I stepped into the doorway and softly shut the door behind me. I was hating this already.

This was her home, I could tell, so I supposed she set aside a room for her office. She led me down a hallway and into a soft yellow room with a sloping roof. Cautiously, I examined my surroundings. Facing the door was a set of windows, one pane of which was a square mosaic, laid out with many shades of blue and violet glass. A low bookshelf stuffed with books rested in one corner, and a few potted plants were placed on the floor and furniture. In the middle of the room were two couches, one wide enough for two people, the other an armchair with a crocheted blanket draped over it. There were tables with lamps next to each couch, and I noted, maybe for future reference, that a jumbo box of tissues rested on each table.  _Just in case you start crying, Kimmy._

_Yeah, as if._

For the first time since I'd entered her house, I turned to face her. She was just a bit taller than I was, and seemed to radiate friendliness.

"Which chair should I sit in?"

"Oh, whichever one you want," she smiled. "Do you want some water? Tea, maybe?" I shook my head and took a seat in the armchair. It faced the door. That felt better than staring at the mosaicked window.

"Well, just let me know if you change your mind," she said, sitting down across from me and taking up her pen and notepad. I had a feeling that she was analyzing my personality from my seat choice.

"I just want you to be as comfortable as possible," she continued. "I'd tell you to call me by my first name, too, but it's Eunice, so we can't have that."

Out of habit, I raised my eyebrow, forgetting that it was probably a rude expression to make at a person I'd just met. She certainly didn't look like a Eunice. She looked like an Ashley, or Ellie, or Jessica.

"With a name like that, maybe you should be the one in therapy," I said.

Dr. Sharpe grinned, but I could tell she was watching me closely. She scribbled something in her notepad and I was desperate to know what, but I didn't ask. I didn't know what the proper etiquette was in this kind of situation. I crossed my legs and then uncrossed them, then tucked them up so I sat cross-legged, my hands drumming on my ankles.

"Hmmm, so, Kimberly—" she began.

"Call me Kim," I interrupted. "Everyone does."

"Alrighty, Kim then. How are you?" Dr. Sharpe stared at me like the next words out of my mouth would be the most interesting she'd ever heard.

"Um, pretty good," I said. "You?"

I cringed inwardly.  _This isn't a chat over coffee, Kimberly. You're not supposed to ask how the shrink is doing._

But Dr. Sharpe smiled. "Very good, thank you. So many people forget that psychiatrists have problems, too."

I could tell she was trying to relate to me somehow, subtly.

"Yeah, I bet."

"So, your brother sent you here?" she asked, leaning forward to make her curiosity clear.

"Yeah," I said. "Well, he and his wife. They think I'm depressed."

"Do you think you're depressed?"

I frowned at the question. "I don't know. I've never been depressed before, so I guess I wouldn't know."

She scribbled something down again. It irritated me. I craned my neck to get a look, but there was no way I could see.

"How do I tell if I'm depressed?" I asked. "Is there an at-home test? A stick I need to pee on?"

I could tell she was surprised. Maybe she thought I was going to be some quiet, teary little girl with no sense of humor. I felt an odd sense of victory. I wished that Dr. Sharpe would go up to Chris and Penelope and say, "Why on Earth did you think this girl needs therapy? She's absolutely fine. She doesn't need help."

But I guessed Dr. Sharpe wanted to get paid.

She replied, "No, but you would make good money if you invented something like that."

I let out one single laugh.

Then, there was silence. I decided that being a psychiatrist must be the best job in the world. Sit and let someone talk to you for an hour—or not talk, whatever they wanted—and get paid a hundred bucks. I wondered what classes I'd have to take to become one, and if some type of med-school was required.

"I just want you to know that everything you say to me is completely confidential," Meadows said. "By law, I can't repeat anything you say. It's doctor-patient confidentiality."

"I don't…uh…I don't really have anything to say," I told her. It was true. I didn't know how to do this. I wasn't Penelope, who could make a conversation out of anything, or my mother, who had been so in touch with her emotions that she could have been a psychiatrist for herself. I hid away from all the bad things in my life, and that was okay with me. I was proud that I could compartmentalize, and generally, it worked, as long as the compartments were big enough to hold everything. Sometimes things spilled over, but I still stuck by my compartmentalizing philosophy. I didn't need to resurface all that pain from so long ago. I didn't want to feel it again.

I didn't want to feel it  _ever_.

Nope. I just needed roomier compartments.

"Well, you can always count on me to listen, anyway. And understand." She shrugged.

Right. I was sure she could understand.

"How's school?" she asked after a pause.

"School's fine."

"Do you do anything after school? A sport? A club, maybe?"

"I used to run track, but I quit," I told her, feeling ashamed, like always, to admit that, more or less, I sat around my room and stared at the walls.

"Why'd you quit?"

I thought about that. Turned it over in my head. Running was something I'd always loved to do, even before it became a sport to me. I wasn't good at many things, but I was fast—really fast—and it felt  _good_  to be good at something. But last year, I'd told Coach I was quitting. I didn't give an explanation to him or myself. I didn't know why I did it.

"I just didn't feel like doing it anymore," I said nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. And at the time, it really felt like no big deal. I just didn't want to run track anymore.

But already, this damn shrink was making me feel like there had been some hidden, ulterior motive for my quitting track, a metaphor of sorts. I was tired of running.  _Running from…?_

I shook my head. It was like English class, when we dissected books so thoroughly that I always wondered if we were really analyzing the author's intentions, or if all those literary analysts and English teachers were wasting their time finding significance in text that authors had written without much thought to hidden meanings.

"Did your brother or sister-in-law encourage you to continue?"

I snapped my attention back to her. "No. I mean," I licked my lips, "I don't think they even knew I ran. I hadn't lived with them for very long when I quit."

"You never told them about it?"

"There was never any reason to tell them. It wasn't a huge part of my life. We had other things to talk about. It wasn't important.

"Mhm," Meadows said absently.

"They're busy enough without me," I added. "They're got their baby, Ethan, and their jobs. Sophie and I complicate things too much as it is. I try to stay quiet."

"Right." She looked at me then, pushing a piece of light hair behind her ears. "Are you close with your sister Sophie?"

"I love her. She's annoying, but she's my baby sister. She's all I…she can be a brat, but she's nine, you know."

"How is Sophie?"

This surprised me. Not that I minded talking about Sophie, but I had been expecting to be forced into talking about my life and problems for the duration of the hour. But then, I didn't know how psychiatrists operated. Maybe this was a technique of some kind.

"She's…" I trailed off, thinking about her, drowning in her huge winter jacket, sniffling in my car. "Nine," I repeated.

"What are kids these days into? I heard Zoey 101 is popular." Dr. Sharpe chuckled.

"Lizzie McGuire, actually," I corrected. "Not Zoey 101, but I think the only reason is because she says Paul Butcher's hair looks like a spaceship." She chuckled, then admitted she had no idea who Paul Butcher was.

"Well, if you ever see a spaceship-headed boy on TV…"

Her smile was slow this time, spreading from the corners of her mouth until it became a full-on grin.

"You're not what I thought you'd be," she told me.

"Are you allowed to say that?" I asked. "I mean, aren't psychiatrists not supposed to make judgments out loud?"

That made her frown. She thought for a second and then said, "I don't know if we're supposed to. Probably not. But we do."

"Everyone does."

_That's the whole problem._

After dinner, I went out for a walk.

I had been dark for a few hours—in the winters, the sun set before 5pm—but the snow on the ground was so white that it reflected the moonlight. There was a slight wind that made the leaves rustle in the forest around me, a startlingly beautiful contrast to the calm ocean waves. I felt at peace, somehow, as if a visit to the psychiatrist had actually worked.

Then, my thoughts turned to Jared, and suddenly I was heavy again. The worst kind of weight is that of uncertainty. Before Jared had spoken to me, I knew he didn't notice me. I knew he wasn't going to talk to me. It was a fact, and the fact was just a dull ache.

But now, he'd spoken to me. His words, his actions, everything about our interaction today had been so fucking confusing. Now, I had no idea what he was to me. What I was to him. If we were anything at all. If I was imagining a change in the way we'd exist.  _As if there's ever a we, Kimberly._ And now the pain of that uncertainty made me so nervous I felt sick.

I tucked my hands into the pockets of my coat, curling my fingers into the wool that was warmed by my body heat.

A loud, deliberate rustle came from the forest, and suddenly a chill of fear tingled in the back of my neck. Was I being followed? Was there an animal in there?

Did I care?

 _It's just the wind,_  I thought, and then for good measure, I said aloud, "It's just the wind." My voice was shaky and uncertain, and even to my own ears it sounded forced.

When I reached First Beach, I slipped down onto the snow and pulled my knees up to my chest. The water was silvery black, and I was overwhelmed with an urge to dip my toes in the freezing ocean. Slowly, I slipped off the ugly boots Penny had lent me and tugged at my thick socks until my feet were free. I placed the boots next to me and stood up, sucking in a sharp breath through my teeth as the bottoms of my feet touched sandy snow. I could feel the icy chill creep up my bones.

The beach was slanted, so when I made my way to the water, it was like running downhill. I stopped just before I reached the very tip of the tide. I moved forward an inch, bracing myself for the cold, when I heard quick, crunching footsteps behind me and a frantic voice.

"What are you  _doing_?"


	5. Chapter 5

I spun around just in time to see Jared Cameron grab my shoulders as if his life depended on it. He yanked me away from the ocean. I gasped in surprise, but Jared didn't stop dragging me until we were back by Penelope's boots.

"What the—" I began, but he interrupted me.

"What are you doing out here alone? And that close to the water? Were you going to go in? You could have been carried away by the tide. You could have…" He trailed off, his dark eyes troubled. I was closer to him than I'd ever been before, face-to-face so that I could see the black depths of his irises, which were ringed with the color of lightning.

"I wasn't going to go in," I defended myself. "I just wanted to put my feet in."

"Why?" he demanded. Then, like he'd realized how harsh his voice was, he evened it out and gently repeated, "Why?"

_Because I felt like it. Because no one was going to stop me._

_Because I wanted to see if I could feel what they felt._

When I didn't answer out loud, Jared spoke again. "Why don't you put your shoes back on?"

Slowly, I tugged my socks and shoes back on, ignoring the clammy sand that caught between my toes. Jared sat next to me while I worked at it, watching my face as I concentrated on my feet.

"How did you see me?" I asked him.

"I was out for a walk," he replied simply. "I heard you. Then I saw you, and I thought you were going to go in, so I sort of freaked. You'd have frozen."

"Well," I frowned. "Thanks, I guess."

Neither of us made a move to get up. I felt trapped, wanting to move off the beach, my sometimes-aversion to being near the ocean returning, but unable to leave, because Jared was still sitting there.

"Pretty night," he offered.

"It's always pretty when it doesn't rain," I replied.

There was a drawn-out silence. Not exactly uncomfortable, but not companionable either.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked softly.

He didn't need to clarify. We both knew he meant the episode in English class today.

"Not mad," I sighed. "I believe you, you know. When you said you knew who I was. I'm just…I don't know…it's just sad that you had to think about it."

He looked a little pained, but stayed silent, as if knowing I had more to say.

"Look, it's not a big deal. I just thought we'd at least be friendly, since I've known you for so long. But I'm not noticeable. It's fine. It's the way I am. I'm not sure I'd want to be noticeable anyway."

Something about what I'd said made Jared stiffen. "There's nothing  _not_  noticeable about you," he insisted. "I'm just an idiot. Doesn't mean everyone else is."

I almost believed him. His voice was so confident and sincere.

"No, no, its not just you," I replied instead. "I'm too plain for people to notice me. Like, really notice me, you know? Enough to ask my name."

"You're not plain," Jared said, not interrupting, but following my words very quickly.

I laughed. Of course, out of everything I'd said, that's what he'd pick out. I had no doubt that Jared knew exactly how to charm a girl.

"What? You're not!" Jared said when I didn't respond. "You're beautiful. You know that."

I let out another burst of laughter, this time out of shock. It sounded slightly hysterical.

"Sorry, did I embarrass you?" he asked, sounding slightly pleased. When I glanced at him, he was grinning.

"You didn't embarrass me," I said slowly, "I just think it must be nice to be you."

"How so?"

"Well," I replied, pausing to be careful with my words. "You're popular, you're nice, and everyone likes you, even the teachers. You can cause the school to go into a state of panic because you were gone for two weeks. You're confident enough to think you can convince any girl that every word out of your mouth is true."

He seemed taken aback. "That's not true," he huffed.

I ignored him. "As opposed to, say, me. I could go away for two months, and I don't think anyone at school would notice."

"I'd notice," Jared said seriously.

I smiled. "Well,  _now_  you would."

"You talk more than I expected," he said suddenly. The smile faded from my face. I raised an eyebrow, and quickly, he clarified, "No, I don't mean it in a bad way. It's great. I thought you'd be shy, but you're not."

"Hmm. Just because I don't have friends doesn't mean I'm shy," I pointed out. Then, because that stereotype irritated me to no end, I couldn't help the rant that tumbled out of my mouth. "It doesn't mean I'm some sad, mousy girl who can't start conversations and flies over the moon with excitement when the popular boy from school talks to me."

"Hey, I never said any of that," Jared said, raising his hands in front of him defensively. "I only meant that, when I saw you, you struck me as a shy person. You never talked to me before today."

"You never  _looked_  at me before today," I snapped. I pushed myself up with my hands and began to leave, but Jared was in front of me in an instant, his hands wrapped firmly around my upper arms.  _Jesus, how big are this boy's hands? And hot. So hot. Does he have a fever?_

_Kimmy, now is not the time to think about this. Leave. Go home._

"I'm sorry I said that," he pleaded, "I'm sorry I upset you." He sounded so genuine that I didn't know what to think.

"Let me go," I demanded, squirming out of his strong grip. As sick as it made me to know it, if he had held on, there was no way I could have freed my arms. It was clear he didn't want to hurt me, though, because he slackened his grip immediately. I instantly felt better.

_Of course Jared isn't like that, Kimberly. Most guys aren't. You just have bad luck._

"I want to go home."

"I'll walk you," he said immediately. "You've gotta be freezing."

"I think I can get home on my own." My voice was thick with sarcasm, and a little too harsh for what the moment called for. "You stay here. You were enjoying yourself."

"Kim, I'm sorry. Really, I'm so sorry I upset you," he was begging now, catching up with me again as I walked up the beach.

"Stop that!" I snapped again.

"Stop what?"

"Stop apologizing for everything. I don't care. It doesn't make any difference. It doesn't matter to me."  _Not anymore._

I wasn't even angry at Jared—I was angry at myself. This was my fault, this stupid love I felt for him. It wasn't his fault that I was obsessive and immature and irrational enough to believe I loved him. And now, here he was, apologizing for my stupidity because he was too damn nice.

"God, why do people always do that?" I asked.

"What?" Jared seemed thoroughly confused now, like keeping up with me was giving him a headache.

"Apologize for stuff that isn't their fault," I said. "As if their saying sorry is going to make it all better. It doesn't work that way."

I could almost see Jared's mind turning, processing my outburst. He knew by now that my anger wasn't just about us, and that there was more behind this, but he didn't mention it. "Maybe it's because saying you're sorry makes you feel less helpless," he said. "Sometimes, there isn't anything people can do  _but_  say they're sorry."

"Is that why you keep apologizing?" I asked. "To feel less helpless?"

He stopped walking and thought for a moment. Unconsciously I stopped too, waiting for a reply.

"I apologized because not apologizing wasn't an option," he said truthfully.

"Good answer."

* * *

"Are you cold?" Jared asked as we walked back up the road toward our houses. I was staring straight ahead, shivering, wishing I was back in my warm bed.

"Of course I'm cold. There's still snow on the ground," I rolled my eyes. "Aren't you cold?"

"I don't really notice the cold," Jared smiled. He began taking off his light jacket and wrapped it over my shoulders.

"Jared, what are you doing?" I protested. "You're going to get sick, even if you are freakishly warm-blooded." I wanted to take it off and give it back to him, but the warmth inside his jacket felt so good that I probably wouldn't have let it go even if he'd asked for it back.

"I'm actually more concerned about you getting sick," he replied. "You're shaking." He looked like he wanted to say something else—maybe  _do_  something else—but then he looked away, tilting his head up to the sky.

I didn't know how to reply, so I copied his action, and we walked in silence for a bit, looking at the stars.

"I love stars," I said after a while, to fill the silence.

"Yeah? Any particular reason?"

"I don't know," I mused, "It's just…they're like magic, you know. Looking at stars makes me think fairies and wizards and all that stuff from fairytales exist. Like there's real magic in the world. Like…I don't know…like the Quileute legends are real."

He was quiet for so long that I had to peek up at him and read his face.  _Did I say something wrong? It was probably weird that I thought stars were magical._

"You think our legends are real?" he finally asked, his voice very tentative, his tone a complex mix of emotions I couldn't decipher.

"Oh, I don't actually believe them. Not seriously," I shrugged. "But it's nice to imagine. I need a little magic in my life." He smiled at that.

Our shoes made crunching sounds in the snow, an odd symphony of Jared's bold, sure steps and my own, careful ones. His legs were so long that I struggled to keep up, even though I could tell he was trying to slow down to my pace. Hastily, I stepped forward and ended up sliding on a piece of smooth ice.

I braced myself for the fall, squeezing my eyes shut, but the ice never came into contact with my butt. Instead, a warm arm slid around my waist to keep me steady, supporting most of my weight. I was surprised that I hadn't taken Jared down with me.

"Oh," I breathed.

Jared looked at me, concerned, his eyes scanning over my body to make sure I was okay. His concern was strange, because he knew that I hadn't fallen, but also because no one had really looked at me that way in a very long time.

I stared back, directly into his eyes as he examined me, wondering if his gaze was real or just a dream that I had conjured up to fill a hole in my chest.

"Careful," He whispered, "Sorry I was walking so fast."

"Thanks," I smiled a little and looked away. "Sorry I'm such a klutz."

He didn't let go of my waist, and we were trapped in a game: him looking at me, me suddenly looking anywhere but at him. Finally, feeling naked and exposed under his gaze, I pulled away, and he let me go without resisting. We started walking again.

"Kim, can I ask you something?"

"Uh huh?"

"Don't get mad, okay? And you don't have to answer. Obviously." He sounded reluctant, strained, like he'd rather do anything than ask.

"Just ask."

"You and Rob…" He trailed off, obviously wanting me to define what we were.

I stiffened, and gnawed at my bottom lip.

"Sorry. I don't mean to pry. Forget I asked."

There was so much sadness and hesitation and…a mix of frustrated emotions I couldn't put my finger on, all jumbled up in his voice. As if he was afraid of what I'd tell him, afraid of what had happened between me and a certain Robert Williams.

But that was just it. There was nothing. We were nothing. At least, I wanted there to have been nothing.

"There was never a me and Rob." I replied, my voice certain for the first that night. "It's history. He's history."

* * *

The summer after Freshman year, I was a hostess at River's Edge, the only real restaurant in La Push. I did a lot of smiling that summer—six hours a day, five days a week—as I greeted the customers—mostly tourists—and showed them to their seats.

I was fifteen, and making minimum wage, but it was still the first legitimate job I'd ever had. Besides, seven dollars an hour seemed like a lot then. I got to hang out with Ella, who was waitressing, and it felt like a good way to spend the summer. I felt grown up.

Rob was a year older than I was, and worked as a busboy and sometimes-waiter on busy Saturday nights. According to Ella, Rob had been after me since the day I started at River's Edge, but that wasn't true. In reality, he'd only started noticing me after I caught him smoking behind the building on one of his breaks. I'd been heading out for the day, going home to help my mom with dinner, but instead I ended up talking to Rob for the better part of an hour.

"Isn't it illegal for you to smoke?" I asked him, feeling uncomfortable and childish in comparison him, so casual, cigarette between his fingers. "You're only sixteen, aren't you?"

Rob let out a slow chuckle, like I was so naïve, and I flushed.

"You're only a freshman. Just wait." That was the only answer he wanted to give me. I felt a little indignant, because he was only a  _year_  older, but I didn't leave.

I didn't talk to him often, but the more I did, the more I'd look forward to the next time I could hang out with him alone. And, every time we did, I felt like I was sitting front row on a roller coaster, slowly climbing to the top. He would flirt with me shamelessly, tell me how pretty I was. I would get butterflies. As the summer went on, I slowly started to like him. It wasn't anything compared to the way I felt for Jared, but it was something new and exciting.

So, when he kissed me, I let him. I kissed him back. And when he said he thought he loved me, I believed him. I didn't say it back, but I believed him.

And being with him felt good, like I didn't need Jared to notice me. Rob was a older, and cute, and funny. It felt grown up, too, being with him, as if I was growing out of my silly crush on the boy who would never notice me.

But then, if I tilted my head a certain way, Rob kind of looked like Jared, and that felt good too.

I hadn't planned on my relationship with Rob going very far, at least not that summer, but every time we made out, his hands seemed to sneak farther and farther up my shirt.

"You're amazing," he'd say, over and over, his lips trailing down my neck.

I didn't know what we had, if we would last past the summer, or if there was a "we" at all.

There were so many things I wanted to ask him, but I didn't want to sound like the clueless and inexperienced girl I was, so I kept the questions to myself. And, every time I started to doubt what we were doing, I told myself that Jared was doing the same things—more, even—with another girl, probably at the exact same moment.

So, I kissed Rob back with fervor, and imagined that, when the summer was over, I'd forget all about Jared Cameron. I should have known things wouldn't work out the way I'd planned them to. It was never that easy.

***

The average person spends three years of their life waiting.

Waiting in line, waiting in traffic, waiting for a phone call—just waiting. Three years is a long time. Longer than most relationships last, longer than the careers of most break-out singers, longer than some kids ever get to live.

The way I saw it, I'd spent nine years of my life waiting for Jared. That was already three times longer than most people waited for anything their whole lives, and I wasn't even seventeen. I wondered if normal people ever got what they were waiting for. Did waiting in all those lines ever pay off? Or, did they, looking back, wish that they had spent their time waiting for other things?

But then, you never know if something's worth waiting for until it happens. If it ever happens.

* * *

The early morning sunlight streamed in through the cracks between my blinds, and I blinked, pulling the covers higher over my head. The attic was chilly, but a comfortable kind of chilly, because I was still wrapped in warm blankets. I didn't want to move.  _It would probably take Penelope an hour or so to notice if I don't get up,_  I mused,  _and then it would be too late to go to school…_

I ended up rolling out of bed anyway. Maybe I was just a good student, or maybe it was because I didn't want to set a bad example for Sophie. Or, maybe, even though I didn't want to admit it to myself, it was because, after last night, I wanted to see Jared. A lot.

It wasn't just because I could stare at him all through class, though. No. Now, I actually had something to look forward to: the prospect that he might strike up a conversation with me again. I remembered that today was Wednesday, which meant every class I had was with him. It seemed unbelievably rude that he would not say anything at all, considering all the talking we'd done the night before. So, he'd probably talk to me. I felt giddy.

When I came downstairs, Sophie was curled up on the couch with a cup of soup in her hand. Her button nose was red from whatever flu she'd caught, and she looked miserable.  _I guess she isn't going to school today, whether I set a good example or not._

"Still feeling sick, huh?" I asked, sitting next to her and tucking her into my lap. She nodded and sniffed. She looked like she was about to cry. I didn't need to ask her what was wrong. I knew sick wasn't the only thing she felt.

"I miss Mom," she said in a tiny thread of a voice. "I want to make sick-day cookies again."

I didn't answer, because how could I? What would I say? That I missed her so much it made me nauseous? That I didn't miss her anymore? That Sophie's pain would go away soon too? None were acceptable. Instead, I straightened up behind her.

"Tell you what," I said, keeping my voice light, "I don't have time to make you cookies, but let's make some monkey bites to tide you over today. How's that sound?" Her eyes lit up. I smiled a little half smile, and we headed towards the fridge.

I was late to school. Slicing bananas, spreading peanut butter onto them, and showering them with rainbow sprinkles shouldn't have taken long, in theory, but I had been extra chatty while we made the monkey bites, hoping to distract Sophie from thinking about Mom.

The results were pitiful. She was still talking about cookies when I left, but I did what I could.

* * *

I was late to school. I went to the front office to get a tardy note, a pink slip otherwise known as the "extra-hour-of-sleep-ticket" that the receptionist gave to everyone and anyone who needed it. The reservation high school had no penalty for tardiness that I was aware of, even if you were late every single day of the year.

As I filled out the form, I wondered why I didn't sleep in more often.

I had to state my reason for being late, choosing between "appointment, "slept in," family issue," or "other." Family issue would have been appropriate, I guessed, but I didn't like the way that sounded. We weren't much a family, and I certainly hoped Sophie wasn't an issue, so I circled "other." The receptionist frowned sympathetically, signed the bottom, and told me to give it to my first-period teacher.

Mrs. Rostow accepted the slip without comment, and ushered me to my seat. Like I'd said, I was a good student, and was rarely late. She liked me. My heart sank as I stared at the empty seat next to mine. Jared was skipping, clearly. I bit my lip, keeping my disappointment at bay. It made me want to cry that he wasn't the least bit anxious to see me, considering he was the only reason that I'd made myself come to school today.

 _Kimberly, you know better than to get your hopes up like that_ , I scolded myself. It was true. I did know better, though it was nice while the anticipation lasted.

Half an hour into class, Mrs. Rostow put in a VHR for the movie adaptation of "A Midsummer Night's Dream". Our reward for getting through the first two acts of the play was getting to spend most of class watching the first part of the film.

I slipped out to use the restroom. The hallway was completely empty, but I could hear noise coming from behind the doors of all of the classrooms. Just as I passed an art class, I heard a loud burst of laughter, and jumped. Then I blushed furiously, embarrassed for being so easily startled, even though there was no one to see me.

As I was washing my hands. I heard loud footsteps out in the hall, getting closer and closer at an alarming pace, almost as if they were running. I frowned in the mirror. I noticed a small breakout beginning to form near my temple.  _Why didn't I catch that this morning?_  My frown deepened.

"Kim," a voice called softly, just above a whisper. Even from outside the restroom door, I could tell it was Jared.

_Oh, fuck._

I'd put my hair into a bun when I realized Jared wasn't in class—I was more comfortable with it out of the way. Now, I pulled off the elastic band and tried to make it a little fluffier than its usual limp self. Looking at my reflection, I happily acknowledged that I looked more presentable than I might have on a regular day, new pimple notwithstanding, because the prospect of seeing Jared that day had made me put a little effort into getting ready in the morning. I had groomed my eyebrows and, in a spontaneous moment very unlike myself, I'd gently lined my eyes with an eyeliner pencil pilfered from Penelope's dresser, to make them "pop".

And so, when I stepped out of the bathroom to face Jared, I felt confident and optimistic, again, very unlike myself. The two feelings were boosted by the look Jared gave me.

It was so weird for him—for anyone—to stare at me this way, especially because Jared looked like a magazine ad, leaning against the row of lockers, his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and his hair ruffled like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Hey," I said breathlessly. "How'd you know I was here?"

My real question was why he was here, but it felt a little rude to ask.

"You weren't in class when I got there, but your stuff was, so…" He shrugged. Clearly, he wasn't going to answer the question of why he came looking for me, either.

"You were late," I said stupidly. My rational self rolled its eyes. I think he's aware he was late, Captain Obvious.

"Yeah," he said. "I, uh…I overslept."

He didn't look like he'd overslept. In fact, he looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. There were rings of purple around his eyes and his skin was drained of color beneath the tan. It was as if he hadn't only stayed up all night, but he'd stayed up worrying about something.

"Ah," I said. "Well, I was late too." I mentally kicked myself again.  _I don't think he cares, Kimmy._

To my mild surprise, he asked why.

"I guess you could say I slept in, too," I lied, not wanting to delve into details. He looked at me pensively and nodded.

"You look pretty today," he said suddenly, sounding like he'd just blurted it out. He didn't blush like I would have, if I'd told him he was good looking, but then again, he probably told this to girls all the time.

Instead, he added, "The color. Of your top. It, uh, looks nice with your skin, and, uh…" Awkwardly, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thanks." I looked down. We both ignored the fact that I was just wearing a plain white long-sleeved t-shirt. It didn't matter that his compliment didn't make sense. He was complimenting me. I was going to take what I could.

"We should probably get back to class," Jared said, exhaling loudly. "Before Mrs. Rostow gets suspicious."

"Right," I agreed immediately.

"I'll give you a minute head-start?"

I nodded and turned smartly on my heals. My heart was beating erratically as I sped down the hall, unused as I was to being around Jared at school. It was different, somehow, than being with him at the beach. At school, people could see us, even though the hall was empty now. I didn't want people to make assumptions. Even more than that, I was scared that Jared wouldn't want people to see us together. I tried not to think about the implications of that.

Back in class, I slumped into my seat, relieved, and made a point not to look at the door. No one would have noticed if I did, anyway. They were all watching the film.

Overall, I had nothing against this play. At least it wasn't "Romeo and Juliet," which I really did not appreciate. Besides, as much as I hated to admit it, I felt like Helena was my kindred spirit of sorts. The fact that she got her happy ending gave me a bit of hope. There were, however, sections that always made me a little uncomfortable. It was probably Hermia's father threatening to kill her if she didn't marry Demetrius that did it. Or maybe it was just the blatant sexism in general.

Jared slipped into his seat just as I cringed at something said on screen.

"What? You don't like this play?" he whispered. Our seats were pressed up close together, since everyone had moved up to get a better view of the small TV Mrs. Rostow had rolled to the front of the classroom.

I shook my head, a little dazed to find him so close.

"No, I like most of it. It's really clever."

Mrs. Rostow, clearly enjoying the film, glared at the noise we were making and hushed us.

Jared pulled a pencil out of his back pocket and reached for my notebook, asking a question with his raised eyebrows. I motioned that he was welcome to take it, and he tugged the notebook towards him, scribbling in the margins.  _What were you cringing at, then?_

I knew exactly what I had been cringing at. Helena had just declared that she'd rather wither away in a nunnery than give her virginity to a man she didn't love. I hadn't understood exactly what she'd meant before, but the movie had changed Shakespeare's dense language into modern speech. My eyes blurred a bit as I poised my pen to write an answer. I waited for the tears to sink back into my eyes. Her line hit a bit too close to home, but I certainly wasn't about to let Jared in on the reason.

Instead of the truth, I gave him something that was also true.

_Just the fact that Hermia's considered her father's property. And that he's threatening to kill her. It's easy to forget that women were treated like property back then._

Jared read what I'd written and smiled. Not like he was amused, I was happy to note—if he had been amused by my anger at sexism I didn't think I could speak to him ever again—but like he was gratified. It was like he had expected me to answer that way, and was glad that I did.

 _I agree_ , he wrote back.  _Good thing we're all enlightened now._

I looked at his face, wondering if he was serious or being sarcastic, and was glad that his eyes were mischievous. I smiled.

A little while later, I saw Jared take up my notebook again and jot something down. He pushed it in front of me.

_You said you like to think magic exists. Do you like the love magic in the play?_

When I looked from the page to his face, I could tell, even in the darkness, that he was smirking. I felt my face flush. Truth be told, I did like the magic in the play. It made love seem justified, no matter how crazy and unreasonable, and I liked to think of love that way. Jared's face, however, made me want to give an answer that contradicted him.

_I don't know. It's kind of messed up that the none of the characters have a choice in who they love._

Jared looked down, but didn't respond with anything else. I noticed that he stared at my last response for a very long time.


	6. Chapter 6

At lunch, like always, I went to the library. Mr. Counsell was organizing the non-fiction section, looking like he wanted nothing more than for someone to end his misery. I pulled out the chips I'd packed and quickly started eating before he could ask for my assistance.

"Smooth movie, but I'm finished anyway," he called over my crunching.

I grinned. "Hey. You'll never guess what happened."

He turned around and examined my expression with curiosity. "Well, don't you look happy today." He seemed a little confused.

I sighed. Was it really that befuddling that I could be happy once in a while?

"Seriously, Kim. What's the story? Your face is about to split down the middle from that big smile. Are you on that Ecstasy stuff we did when we were young?"

I made a face at the mental image of my face splitting down the middle.

"Gross, Mr. Counsell. And, no," I said impatiently. "I'm not a Seventies wild child. No drugs . It's not that…it's…well, you see…"

Suddenly, I didn't want to tell him. I knew what he would say, and I didn't want him warning me that Jared could be using me, or playing a joke on me. Certainly, his response wouldn't be uplifting, and I wished I'd kept my mouth shut.

"Spit it out, Kim! I'm dying here," he snapped, staring at me with inquisitive eyes.

"It's Jared," I said, giving up. Might as well tell him. "He's talking to me. A lot. I ran into him at the beach yesterday, and I talked to him in the hall today. We passed notes in English. And then we worked together in Physics. He's really good at physics."

"What?" Mr. Counsell's face was the picture of shock.

"Okay, you don't have to sound that surprised," I rolled my eyes. "And he's really nice, Mr. Counsell! I think we…we could be friends."

"And that's what you want? To be friends?" His wise eyes gave me a sympathetic look.

"Well, sure. Why wouldn't I want to be friends with him?"

"C'mon. I know you. You don't want to be friends with him."

I grabbed another chip and didn't respond.

"Stop making it so hard for yourself, Kim," he insisted, as he had so many times before. "You can continue on with this shitty Jared fantasy that may never go anywhere, or you can actually find someone who likes you for you. What about that Tanner boy?"

I gave him a look and wrinkled my nose. "He wears two polo shirts and pops both his collars," I said. "Plus, he's skinner than me."

I had to admit, I was being unfair. As far as boyfriends went, I could have done worse than Tanner Otis. He was mildly cute, and always sweet to me. I knew he had a crush on me, because boys like him always went for slightly weird, nerdy girls like me. Tanner liked me because he thought I was troubled, and that we'd make a good pair, because he thought he was, too.

"You find something wrong with every boy who isn't Jared," Mr. Counsell sighed. "You've got to stop comparing other boys to him. That's not how you move on."

This conversation was steadily heading in the direction I had feared. I should have known, but subconsciously I had wished that Mr. Counsell would tell me Jared had finally come to his senses and realized we were meant to be together. That he would help me plan what to do next. I didn't have girlfriends my age to say these things to me. It was stupid to think that a forty-year-old gay librarian could play the role of a teenage girl.

"I don't compare them to him," I protested. "There aren't even…"

I broke off as the door to the library burst open, and in the doorway, in all his masculine glory, stood Jared Cameron. I was a little smug to note that, even Mr. Counsell, the Jared critic of the Century, was a little surprised at how good he looked.

"Kim," he said, a little breathless.

"Oh, hey, Jared," I said quietly. Turning my eyes down towards the table, I wondered if he'd overhead what I'd been saying. I felt my cheeks burn at the prospect.

"Why aren't you at lunch? I looked every—um…I couldn't find you in the lunch room."

"I eat here most days," I said. "It's, uh, quieter."

Jared smiled, placing his heaping tray of food down across from me. "Mind if I join you? I could use a break from the noise myself."

"Go ahead."

He looked contented as he sat down and devoured his first cheeseburger in four bites, then moved onto his second. He was inhaling food as if he hadn't eaten anything in weeks. He wasn't a messy eater, though, thank goodness. I couldn't stand people with gross eating habits.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?"

Grandly, I motioned to the bag of Lays in front of me, then popped a chip into my mouth. He frowned.

"Come on, you've got to eat more than that." He pushed his full tray toward me. "Take something."

"Oh, no, I'm good. You look hungry." I protested.

"I'll be just fine," he said. "Take whatever you want."

I could feel Mr. Counsell's eyes glued to us from his desk across the library. It made the whole situation that much more awkward. I reached over and took an apple from Jared's tray, biting into it slowly, aware that Jared, too, had his eyes trained on me.

"You know, it's hard to eat when there are two people watching you," I snapped, finally annoyed past the point of hiding it.

Jared looked confused, like he hadn't realized that there was someone else in the library. Then he looked weary, as if he was upset that he hadn't noticed. Mr. Counsell let out a low whistle and raised his eyebrows at my boldness. I glared at both of them. "What?"

"Nothing," Jared shrugged. Mr. Counsell made himself look busy.

I sighed inwardly. "Where do you normally eat lunch?" I asked Jared, to change the subject. Then I regretted it, because I knew, and didn't want to hear him answer. Sitting with me must have been a boring change of pace for him, considering all of his friends were popular, and more fun than I was.  _Why is he even here?_

"Um, well, with Paul, normally," he said, sounding as uncomfortable as I felt. "And, uh, Vince Pine, Courtney Loquato, Noah Smith, Melanie Shiffer…Tia Summers?"

He said their names like I wouldn't have known who they were, though he'd basically just named the five most popular people in school. I wondered what went on at their lunch table, what they about— _who_  they talked about. Inwardly, I cringed a bit at Tia's name. She was definitely the girl I'd seen in Jared's room the night before he disappeared.

"Why aren't you sitting with them today," I asked, unable to resist my curiosity.

"I just…wanted to be here," he said simply, raising his eyes to meet mine. Oh.

They were clear and warm, and a bit sad-looking, like a puppy's. I couldn't look away.

Mr. Counsell loudly cleared his throat, making both us break out of our staring contest and look over.

I narrowed my eyes, irrationally displeased with him for interrupting the moment, even though it was an uncomfortable one. "Something in your throat?" I asked sharply.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," he muttered, and coughed again for good measure. When Jared looked down to pick his next food item to devour, I shot Mr. Counsell a venomous glare that he blatantly ignored. This was starting to get ridiculous, and I was starting to get nervous. I sighed and fingered the straps on my backpack, vividly planning out escape routes in my head.

Several times, Jared tried to start up a conversation, but I only responded with half-hearted, one-word answers. I was too nervous and uncomfortable to say much, and didn't have the energy to come up with anything clever.

After a while, he caught on to the cold-shoulder. "You have questions for me," he stated. His clear eyes turned impossibly deeper.

"Why are you talking to me?" I said quickly, before I could chicken out and say something generic.

"Because I want to," he answered promptly.

"But, why?"

"Is it so weird that I want to get to know you better?"

"Yeah, actually, it is. You never showed any interest before. Even Paul…"

I didn't know how I wanted to finish that sentence.  _Even Paul acknowledged my presence. Even Paul made an effort to talk to me._ Either would have worked, but I knew what kind of reaction that would have gotten out of Jared, and somehow, I didn't have the heart.

"Paul says you're a cool girl," Jared replied. "So, I thought I'd get to know you better. He's usually right about people." Obviously, I wasn't going to get any more out of him. He returned to his chewing, his eyes still fixed on my face.

"So, speaking of Paul, where is he? He wasn't in our Calc class yesterday."

"Sick," he responded, a little too quickly. "I probably gave him what I had."

I frowned. "Whatever it is must be pretty bad. You were out a long time."

"Yeah…mono," he added. I thought he looked nervous, but maybe I was imagining it.

I smirked, because I couldn't help myself.

"You gave him mono?" That got him. He opened his mouth, but not words came out for a few seconds.

"Yeah, uh…we probably shared food, or…uh…I'm not even sure if was mono," he stuttered. The shock on Jared's face was so gratifying that I giggled, letting him know I was joking. Then, I decided that seeing him slightly uncomfortable was sort of fun.

"Yeah, maybe not," I shrugged, "Because when I had mono in seventh grade, I lost ten pounds."

As if my words had inspired him, Jared slunk down in his seat, trying to make himself appear smaller. It was hopeless. He was still huge. Then, my gaze fell on his arms. I wasn't one to lust over very muscular men, but something about Jared's big arms were extremely attractive. I could imagine them wrapped around me. The rational part of me also noted that a sane person wouldn't wear a tank top in November, but I ignored it. I bet his arms would be very warm.

Suddenly, I was aware of the way Jared was looking at me—really aware. It made my heart speed up, and my cheeks slowly turned from pink to red until I was flaming to the tips of my ears. And then, there was  _nowhere to put my hands._ I stared at them for a while, fidgeted, then nervously tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

Jared's phone began to vibrate. As he shot me an apologetic look and put it to his ear, I heaved—what I hoped—wasn't an audible sigh of relief.

"Hello?" he answered gruffly. He listened for a second, then quickly said, "No, I can't now…seriously, no…yeah, it's important. C'mon, Sam…God, fuck you."

The last words were low, like he didn't want me to hear them. When he snapped his phone shut, he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling for a moment before turning them back to me, a little pleading.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Kim. I've got to go."

I waved my hand in the air and smiled nonchalantly. "Go ahead. No big deal."

"I'm sorry," he apologized again anyway. "I'll see you…tomorrow?"

Something in his voice got me. It was as if he didn't want to wait that long. I was aware that I didn't either, hit with a pang of disappointment at not spending the rest of the day in classes with him.

"Yeah, tomorrow," I agreed. "See you."

He looked like he had more to say, but thought better of it and turned to walk away. I glanced at him as he left, backpack slung over his muscled shoulder, hand running through his hair, and sighed.  _What a beautiful boy._

A low, thoughtful hum interrupted my musings. Annoyed, I turned to look at Mr. Counsell. From the look he gave me, he evidently did not approve of this entire situation.

I sighed. He was probably right. If I had any common sense, I wouldn't approve, either.

* * *

After school, I drove the twenty minutes it took to get to Forks. There was a café there, called A Work In Progress, that was cute and quaint, and doubled as an antique store. I liked the name, because sometimes I liked to think that that was what I was: a work in progress. I conveniently skipped over the fact that I hadn't worked on myself in a long time.

I ordered a large coffee and a chocolate croissant, and took it to a secluded booth in the back corner. From there, I could watch the traffic of people moving about the shop. Most of them didn't stay. They just ordered a quick coffee for the road before heading back to work, or home, or whatever else real-world responsibilities they had.

I felt disconnected from them, not having any commitments of my own.

Yes, Chris and Penelope would notice if I didn't arrive home by dinner, I supposed. But how much would they actually worry? More likely, they'd just assume I was hanging out with someone from school and lost track of time. Not until much later would they actually consider the less rosier reasons, like that I'd gotten lost, or that something had happened to me.

I should have been thrilled at my freedom. What teenager didn't hope and pray that their parents gave them free reign over their time and didn't ask for their whereabouts? The funny thing was, it was a whole different story when there were no parents in the picture anymore.

When I checked my watch, it was already close to five, so I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. Even if no one was waiting for me, I could still pretend I had somewhere to be. My car took a while to start, which worried me slightly, but the drive home on the icy roads didn't prove troublesome. It was only as I turned onto the road leading to my house that the engine made a quiet sort of purring sound and, to my great chagrin, proceeded to die.

_Oh._

I, having no experience with cars and knowing nothing of their inner workings, did the only thing I could think of. I jammed the keys into the ignition and spent the next five minutes trying to start it up again. Finally, I had to admit defeat.

 _Fan-fucking-tastic._  I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel in frustration, and, for a second, I wondered if this was karma coming to get me for making fun of Jared at lunch today. Then, cursing under my breath, I opened my door and started walking along the road to my house.  _God, I hope Chris is home_ , I prayed, even though I knew he usually wasn't home this early.

There weren't many houses on our road, but it was long, and the air was chilly. I was already too far away rom my car to go back when it dawned on me that I should have brought my jacket along. I started to shiver uncontrollably. It was a mystery why I always did this. I was constantly cold, my fingers and toes constantly always icy, yet I could never make it a habit to remember warm clothes.

I heard the yelling just as my house came into view over the snowy trees.

"…your fucking fault, you fucking moron! If you hadn't made me go on that wild fucking goose chase at lunch, I'd know exactly where she is!" The voice was yelling with so much ferocity that I was a little scared to keep walking.

"We're going to find her," said another loud, calmer voice. "Calm down. You need to calm down and focus. Where could she have gone?"

In the back of my mind, I recognized who the voices belonged to, but I wouldn't let myself really believe it.

"I don't know! God, I don't know!" The yelling voice was now tortured, on the verge of tears. "I've looked everywhere! Her freaking useless family has no clue. She could be lost. She could be hurt. She could have gone into the fucking ocean. She could have…oh, my God…she could have—"

"Stop it!" commanded the second voice. I was getting closer, almost to the point where I could see the source of the noise. "She's fine. Maybe…she went to Forks. Or Port Angeles. She could be anywhere, but I'm sure she's fine."

"I can't look everywhere! I can't be everywhere at once! Where do I start? What if I go to wrong way? You gotta send Paul east, and you go north, and I'll go south. I can cover ground fast, maybe I can—"

Paul? My frown deepened, I sped up my pace to round the corner that would reveal identities of the speakers. It couldn't be…

"Jared, we can't send out a search party. Not yet. It hasn't been very long. Let's just wait an hour or two…"

I turned just in time to see Jared's fist collide with Sam Uley's jaw. He began to blur a second later, shaking so hard that I couldn't make out his form.

I gasped, my voice very rough and loud, stopping in my tracks.

Jared's head snapped to me, and he was at my side just a second later. I gasped again, and then a third time when I was abruptly engulfed in his embrace. Stunned into silence, with Jared's body and warmth surrounding me, I tried to gather my thoughts. It was, of course, completely useless. The only thing I could think was,  _God, his arms really are as warm as I'd imagined._

"Kim," he breathed. He had said my name so many times in the past two days, but this time was so different—so full of relief. My head was still spinning as I fumbled around my mind for something to say. I could only blink.

Behind Jared, Sam Uley cleared his throat in a deliberate way, and I saw him rub his jaw where Jared's fist had made contact. It was turning dark red. Jared stiffened, and loosened his grip on me, even backing away a step. Sam looked at me. I noted, with confusion, that his gaze was slightly amused.  _Didn't someone just punch you in the face? Shouldn't you be mad?_

For the longest time, nobody spoke. The stillness was deafening, suffocating.

"Why are you walking?" Jared asked finally. "Where's your car? It's freezing…aren't you freezing?" As he spoke, he was getting worked up again. Without thinking, I reached over and placed a hand on his flaming forearm. We both stared at my hand for a moment, not speaking.

"Uh, yeah, I do. My car—uh—it broke down. Just down the road, actually."

Sam stepped close to Jared, and, without looking at me, murmured something inaudible into Jared's ear. Instantly, Jared's face melted into its normal state. He cleared his throat. Sam gave what sounded like a low chuckle, and walked away. I didn't know if I should have said anything to him, just to acknowledge his presence, but Jared's voice interrupted me.

"I can help you with your car," Jared offered.

"Oh," I looked at him, a little startled. My forehead was now throbbing along with my erratic heartbeat, and, somewhat confused, I thanked him.

I walked quickly and silently to my car, a few steps ahead of Jared, trying to convince myself that he hadn't been talking to Sam about me. He couldn't have been talking about me. Yes, he'd been relieved to see me, but that was probably because he was torn up over this missing girl. It was probably his mom, or his sister. Maybe it was Tia. Yes. Probably Tia. They were sort of dating, weren't they?

It was definitely someone who mattered to Jared, and I was definitely not on that list.

"Do you have a jacket?" Jared asked when we got to the car.

"Yeah," I said, and reached into the backseat for it. I shrugged it on, and Jared was already popping open the hood, looking for the source of the problem.

A few seconds later, he peeped over the hood lid at me. "I think your fuel pump is messed up," he said, "but I should have Paul look at it. You know, when he's better. He's better at this stuff than I am."

"Okay," I said softly.

"So, how are you going to get this to your house before then?" he asked, a slow grin starting to spread over his face.

I couldn't help but smile back, even though my heart was trying to jump out of my chest at his beautiful grin. It was kind of strange, the speed with which his mood changed from anger at Sam to teasing me, but I was happy to match it.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you could push it back to my house for me," I responded playfully, my own grin spreading.

"I bet I could," he replied.

"What?"

"I said, I bet I could." He laughed at my stunned expression.

When I didn't answer, he said, "Just go put the car into neutral, then come out here to keep me company."

"Jared, you aren't—"

"Of course, I'm serious. Go. You'll freeze if we don't get you home."

Swallowing my protest, I obeyed, climbing in and shifting the gear.

When I emerged and went back to where Jared now stood behind the car, he made a show of rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. Then, to my amazement, he started to push my car effortlessly down the road.

My jaw dropped as walked next to him.

"You…you don't need help?" I asked, my voice small.

"I've got this." He wasn't even panting. "So, how are you?"

He's literally, single-handedly, pushing my car up the road, and he's making casual conversation. Granted, my car wasn't a truck, but it was still a piece of heavy machinery. I was certain that this was not normal.

"Uh, I'm fine," I said quickly.  _I literally saw you five hours ago_. "But really, Jared, how are…you're going to be sore…"

"Really, Kim, I'm good. It's a piece of cake," he promised cheerfully.

We walked in silence for a few minutes. "So, uh, where were you today? Did you go to a friend's house after school? Or…"

"No, I drove to Forks. There's a little coffee shop I like to go to."

"Oh, cool. You should take me sometime," he said, his voice light.

I blinked. Did he just ask to get coffee with me? I was thoroughly confused now, but before I could delve into my confusion, we'd gotten to my driveway.

"Is here good?" he asked, referring to where he'd stopped my car in front of the garage.

"Um, yeah. That's great," I said. Apparently, I couldn't get more than a few words out at a time this afternoon. Jared reached into the front seat and put the car into park.

"Thank you so much," I told him, truly grateful. "Seriously, I don't know what I would have done."

"Oh, it's nothing. It's not fixed or any—"

"No, seriously, thanks Jared." I cut him off. He was looking at me again,  _really_  looking, the way he had in the library at lunch. My body was responding by getting jittery and nervous. I bit my lip.

"Uh, yeah, so," I said, flashing a quick grin at him. "My brother's probably wondering where I am. Um, so, bye!" Even as I said the words I was groaning at how unbelievably rude I sounded, but the air between us was so dense that I didn't care.

"Oh. Yeah, see you tomorrow," I heard him call from behind me as I dashed towards the house. I turned around at the door to wave at him, my last attempt at politeness, and shut the door behind me with relief.

Penelope came out into the foyer, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"Hey, you're home."

"Yeah," I breathed, still a little shocked and dazed.

"Well, dinner's almost ready." I gave her a tight grin. She started walking back to the kitchen, then stopped, turning to look at me again.

"Kim, it's the oddest thing. You know that boy from across the street? Jared? He came to the door to ask where you were a little earlier. Do you know him?"

I closed my eyes and nodded, then decided that I didn't want dinner anymore. Instead, I headed out the garage door and up to my room, where there were no questions. I couldn't deal with questions right now. I had no answers to speak of.

* * *

There was this thing that Chris did. I didn't think anyone apart from me noticed it. Chris probably didn't realize it himself.

We'd be out at dinner, Penelope and a waiter wrestling Ethan into a highchair, while Sophie would be demanding two crayon sets (because there were never enough reds for her taste), and Chris would develop a twitch.

I liked to call it his Over-the-Shoulder-Twitch. He only did it when he got really embarrassed or ashamed of something, which was happening more and more frequently as of late. Every thirty seconds or so, he'd routinely look over his shoulder to make sure no one he knew was watching. And I guessed they never were, because, although he'd always be flushed, he never said anything to us. He didn't help Ethan into his chair or supply Sophie with her crayons; he just hoped nobody would witness him with his embarrassingly ill-behaved family.

For some reason, the Twitch always made me really depressed. Chris and I weren't close, but I wanted him to be happy. Clearly, he wasn't. Sometimes I wondered if he ever would be, with Penelope and Ethan tying him to La Push and his dead-end job weighing him down for the rest of his life.

And thinking about that made me realize that we were all there, on that same path, headed in that same direction. Most people, especially people from La Push, never left their hometown. They went to college instate, if they got lucky, then got a decent job and lived in the same kind of decent house they'd grown up in. We were pretty privileged, as far Indian reservations went, I knew, but still. No one ever left. There was no way out, and, if I dwelt on it too much, it would feel suffocating.

So, every time I witnessed the Twitch, I vowed I'd get out of here.

I really would, one of these days.

* * *

The rest of the week seemed normal on the surface, but every time I paused to give it some thought, it felt as though I really had fallen through the looking glass into an alternate universe. I wasn't complaining, though. How could I? In this alternate universe, Jared Cameron talked to me. All the time. Jared Cameron had lunch with me in the library. Jared Cameron worked on his physics worksheet with me, and Jared Cameron offered to wash paintbrushes with me in Art class. The strangest thing of all was that, every time class ended, Jared Cameron looked sad to see me go.

It was a good thing I had a lot of schoolwork the rest of the week, because otherwise, I would have spent a good deal of time pondering why this was happening. The thing was, if I really thought it through, I knew I would come to a logical conclusion about why Jared was talking to me. And that conclusion really upset me. So, I spent the rest of the week in a daze, refusing to analyze my life.

On Friday night, I sat on Chris and Penelope's bed, watching Penelope twirl in a pair of pear earrings and examine herself in the big mirror attached to her dresser.

"I can't begin to tell you how luck we are you're here," she told me for the fourth time that night. "Really. You're such a blessing."

"It's no big deal" I replied every time. "I'm happy to do it."

It was Chris's semi-annual office get-together, and he and Penelope hadn't been out of the house alone since the one in May. It was also an opportunity for Penelope to buy a fancy dress. This time, she'd purchased a three-hundred dollar light green dress that had thin metallic bands draped over it, making her appear taller and more graceful than she usually did.

Of course, this meant that I was babysitting. It wasn't a big deal, because, despite it being Friday night, it wasn't as if I had plans to go out.

"You look beautiful," I told her, because it was one of those things everyone should get to hear every so often. Chris wasn't one to shower the compliments, which was ironic, because Penny thrived on them. To her, insincere compliments were infinitely better than none at all.

"You think so?" she asked doubtfully, but I could tell she was grateful. She scrutinized her face in the mirror.

"You're going to be the youngest, hottest wife there," I insisted.

Penelope beamed. She really did. After a few seconds, the expression faded off her face, replaced by a more familiar, sheepish look. It was hard to imagine that, a second ago, she'd been glowing.

"They've already eaten dinner, but I don't want them having any dessert. Sophie wants to ride her bike, but make sure it's not too dark out. Just put Ethan in his bouncy chair and pray he stays entertained for a while."

"I know, I know, Penny. You're going to be late,"

"Right, right." She turned around quickly, making her dress swish around her ankles. "How do I look?"

"Gorgeous," I said again, and shooed her out of the room. Chris was waiting in the kitchen, adjusting the cuff of his shirt and checking his watch. When he saw her, he gave her a look, and not a nice one either.

Despite all of my mixed feelings for Penelope, in that moment I felt worse for her than I ever had. Here she'd been, spending hours getting ready for this party. When someone had finally maybe convinced her she looked great, her husband—the one person in the world who should have always thought she looked amazing—couldn't muster anything aside from an impatient frown.

I averted my eyes so I wouldn't have to see her face fall. I stood in the kitchen while they left, said my goodbyes and wished them a great time. When they were out the door, I let out the deep breath I'd been holding for a while and stood, staring at our yard for a few minutes, not thinking. The snow had melted by now, and everything looked still and dead.  _I hate winter. I hate the cold._

"Kim?"

I glanced at Sophie, who was glued to the television in the living room, then to Ethan, who was crawling around in his playpen.

"Hmm?"

Eyes still fixed to the TV, Sophie tucked a piece of her unruly hair behind her ear. It hadn't been brushed in days; it was sticking up in every direction and badly needed a trim. Mom never would have let it go so long without maintenance, I thought. But then, Mom wouldn't have done a lot of things and I needed to stop thinking that way.

"Can we go outside?"

* * *

"Kimmy!" Sophie called. "Kim! Kimmy! Look at me!"

She was on her old pink Barbie bike that she was getting too big for, wearing a helmet that smushed her head. Despite that, she had the biggest grin on her face, her hands up in the air while she navigated with only her legs. The bike was jerking wildly underneath her and, although I didn't want to spoil her fun, I was a little freaked out.

"Sophie, use your hands!" I demanded. "You're going to fall!"

Ethan clapped and giggled.

"I'm not going to fall," she insisted, rolling her eyes. "I'm good at this!"

Still, she listened, and placed her little hands back on the handlebars, sensing that I was serious. I watched her for a while, zooming down the driveway, and I imagined how fast she felt. Really, she wasn't going above a mile an hour, but on a tiny little bike with her hair whipping out behind her, she probably imagined she was flying.

Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Ethan was intently examining his surroundings while I read "Emma" on the front porch, routinely looking up to make sure Sophie wasn't about to die.

After a few minutes of the stillness, Ethan started to clap, very noisily, demanding my attention. He gurgled and grinned, sticking three fingers in his mouth and making the loudest shrieking sound.

"Jesus, Ethan," I said, smiling. "What's up with you?"

He didn't quiet down, and I felt compelled to take him out of his chair and rock him a little bit. He really was a cute baby, if you could look past his spoiled attitude and the frequent tantrums he threw.

No matter how much I tried to calm him, he continued making that same squealing sound, which grew louder by the second. It actually became so loud that I had to look up to make sure there wasn't a crowd of neighbors huddled around, thinking I'd been torturing the kid.

What I saw when I did looked up, though, was a lot more alarming.


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

I went to Sam and Emily's house for dinner after I'd helped Kim push her car back home. I apologized for punching Sam in the face. Like the good man he was, he waved if off.

"You imprinted on her. This is normal. I get it, man."

Emily's food was heaven, as usual, and she spent all of dinner asking me about Kim. Obviously, I was thrilled to talk about her, and Emily seemed thrilled that she would soon have someone to bond with over this imprinting madness. I guessed it had been lonely for her, being the only one. Sam seemed less pleased that I was stealing all of Emily's attention. I chuckled inwardly to myself.

After dinner, we both phased, and found that Paul had fallen asleep in his wolf form. I heard Sam sigh in my head. Paul was probably not going to be able to phase back for days, and it was probably a good idea for one of us to stay in his head most of the time, to make sure he didn't do anything crazy. I groaned. Any time I wasn't in school or sleeping, Sam had me patrolling and keeping an eye on Paul.

_Go get some sleep now, Jared. You can take over for me the second half of the night._

_Yeah, whatever,_ I replied _, Just as long as you don't send me on another chase after some imaginary vampire trail._

_I told you, it was real. It just disappeared by the time I got to you._

_Yeah, whatever you say, boss._  I was a little sorry that I'd apologized. I kind of wanted to punch him again.

* * *

I spent the rest of the week getting very little sleep, but it was still the best week of my life, because I got to talk to Kim every time I saw her, which was many times every day. Superficially, I felt like I had gotten to know her pretty well, a fact over which I endlessly congratulated myself. Her favorite color was orange, like the sunset. She liked Italian food, but not macaroni, and she couldn't stand pineapple or olives, because they made her tongue feel funny. She like math, because it made sense to her, but she liked literature the most. That made me smile _. Soul mates_ , I told myself smugly.

As much as I'd managed to talk to her, though, I could tell she was blocking me out. I also got the feeling that she didn't like me very much, but I tried to ignore that particular sense. At least she hadn't told me, flat out, to leave her alone. I didn't think I'd have a choice if she did.

It was the way she always looked away from me that fueled my conclusion: she was still mad about the fact that I had never spoken to her until I imprinted on her, as she had every right to be. It bugged me that she would never let our conversations get past the superficial, but I was patient. I would keep trying. After all, I had been a long-time idiot for not seeing her awesomeness. Making up for it now was sure to be a process.

* * *

On Friday afternoon, Paul finally got a firm-enough grip on his emotions to change back into human form. We three wolves celebrated with dinner, courtesy of Emily, of course I wondered if Kim could cook like Emily. I wondered if she'd ever consider cooking for me. After dinner, I tried to talk Sam into giving me the night off.

"Look, the trail you found Tuesday clearly died. The Cullens haven't come anywhere near us, and Paul's finally sane again." Sitting on Emily's couch, I counted the reasons on my fingers. Paul rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was trying not to engage in any conversation, in case something triggered him again.

"Yeah, but you can't ever be too careful, Jared," Sam countered.

"I know, I know, but all I'm asking for is one evening of hanging out with Kim and one night of sound sleep." Sam drummed his fingers on the coffee table, thinking.

"Fine," he finally said.

"Yes!" Before he could change his mind, I was running out the door.

"Come on, Lahote," I heard Sam say to Paul, "I think we should go see the Elders, and then you'll probably want to see your mom."

I felt a little sorry for Paul. He was about to get a long responsibility spiel, and then he'd have a lot of explaining to do at home. I didn't feel badly enough, however, to offer to go with them. Hell, I'd had to deal with my parents alone. It had taken all the lying abilities I had in me to convince them that I'd had a mental breakdown in the woods, and Sam had found me and taken me home. Sure, Sam had asked the elders to call them and make my claims legitimate, but I definitely did most of the heavy lifting.

Instead, I bounded home and hopped in the shower. Then, taking care to make myself look presentable in a soft shirt and jeans, I made my way over to Kim's house.

* * *

I didn't think I could ever get over how beautiful Jared Cameron was. It wasn't just because I loved him. No, he was objectively beautiful, and when I saw him, then, coming towards me, I felt my breath stop short.

From my observations, Jared didn't hang around outside his house very often, unless you counted the distance from his door to his car. He always seemed so busy: coming home, bounding inside, rushing out to his car an hour or so later.

But now, he was outside, and walking across the street towards our house. The striking contrast between his fresh, clean silhouette and the gloomy, darkening sky made my heart race. Ethan was still squealing, but it wasn't so loud anymore, as if I was suddenly very far away from anyone who wasn't Jared.

"Hey, Kim," he greeted me with a boyish grin. I could hear my heart melting into a little puddle. He rubbed the back of his neck, almost nervously, while I settled Ethan back in his crib.

"Um…hi," I squeaked. Although the only witness to our meeting was Ethan, who was too mesmerized by the appearance of a shiny new human to pay me any mind, I still felt immensely embarrassed.

"I saw you out here. Thought you might want some company."

Before I could say anything, he bent down to sit on the porch step next to me, his whole arm flexing as he situated himself on the cold wood. He wasn't wearing a jacket, just a plain shirt and black jeans.  _His butt looks so good in those jeans_ , I couldn't help but notice.  _Oh my God, Kimberly, there is really no hope in the world for you._

"Here," I said, getting up and unfolding the blanket I was sitting on so that it was long enough to reach him.

"Nah, I'm good," he shook his head, "Not afraid of the cold, remember?"

"Are you sure?" I was skeptical. I didn't want him to freeze his aforementioned rear end off.

"Yup," he chucked, popping the "p" the way Sophie usually did.

I laughed. The mood was light, and I felt comfortable. I didn't know what it was, but I wasn't as anxious or jumpy as I usually was when we talked at school.

"So, babysitting?" he asked, motioning to Sophie, who was maneuvering her bike in a series of complicated twists and turns. I bit my lip. I really hoped she doesn't fall or anything.

"Yeah," I tried to distract myself from my sister's potentially life-threatening tricks. "My brother and his wife had a party to go to, so I'm, uh, helping out."

Jared nodded. "Your sister's in fourth grade right?

I nodded, mildly impressed that he'd remembered our conversation from earlier today.

"And who's this guy," he asked, motioning to Ethan, who was starting to fuss again. I picked up and sat him on my lap. Jared grinned a grin that looked distant, almost wishful. I told myself that I was imagining things.  _Jesus, he's a teenage boy. What teenage boy likes babies?_

"My nephew," I answered. "Ethan. He's a spoiled brat, but he's a cutie."

"I think you just defined the word 'baby'," Jared chucked.

"But in this one's case, it's extreme." I smiled, a little indulgent.

Sophie called my name without looking at me, snagging my attention away. She showed me figure-eight she'd just figured out how to do with one hand on the handlebar, and I made a big deal out of it, grinning widely at her and cheering. I guessed that that was what parenting was like, really. No matter how insignificant something was, you acted proud and impressed. Kids needed that to grow up happy. Otherwise they'd probably be messed up with self-esteem issues all their lives.

I turned back to Jared. "Isn't it Tia's birthday party tonight?" Ethan started reaching for his chair, so I popped him back into place, and he gurgled.

Jared hesitated a moment before shrugging. "I guess so."

His indifference surprised me. He was acting like he couldn't care less, even though the party was all everyone at school talked about that week, Jared's friends included. It was supposed to be huge, especially since Tia's parents were out of town. Courtney, Tia's best friend, had even invited me—Tia had wanted literally everyone to be there. I had actually considered going, seeing as there would have been a lot of free alcohol, and being inebriated didn't sound like a half-bad idea after the confusing week I'd had, but obviously, I was otherwise engaged.

Besides, weren't Jared and Tia supposed to be together? And, if not "together" together, at least hooking up? Didn't he have more of a reason to be at her party than most other people there?

"She probably wants you to go," I said quietly.

"I don't think she'll miss me," he said quickly, as if wanting to change the subject. "Besides, I'd rather be here."

I glanced up at him, baffled, only to meet his smoldering gaze. His deep, warm eyes bore into mine, and I felt like I was melting into them. Part of me was getting nervous again, and really craving a cigarette to placate my nerves. I wasn't actually a smoker—I'd only tried it a couple of times the summer after Freshman year—but just then, I felt like I could have chain-smoked a whole pack.

Another part of me, however, reveled in the way he looked at me. I wanted more of that, more of his heat. I wanted him to keep looking at me that way, preferably all my life. It stirred some spark that was dormant and hidden inside me. It made me burn, and I loved it.

"There isn't much to do here," I whispered, holding his gaze. "You know. Besides watching little kids."

"Sure there is," Jared whispered back. He was suddenly very close, and I could have sworn that he was about to reach out his hand to brush my cheek when a wail sounded from down the street. I jumped up so quickly my knees cracked, whipping my head around. It didn't take much scanning to locate Sophie, sitting on the ground, holding her knee.

"OW!" She wailed. I didn't need to see her face to know that it was flaming red.

I was at her side in less than a second, dropping to my knees to examine her injury, Jared right behind me. Her jeans over her knee had ripped open into a huge hole, the frayed denim edges rapidly being stained with blood. The whole top layer of her skin seemed to have disappeared. I'd suffered many scrapes and bruises in my lifetime, but I had to admit, Sophie's pretty much trumped anything I'd ever seen.

"Oh my God," I breathed, heart in throat, a little dizzy from all the blood. "Oh, dear God."

"Owwwww," she cried, over and over and over again. I didn't know what to say. This wasn't exactly my area of expertise.

Jared knelt down beside me, examining Sophie's knee and then speaking softly, kindly,

"Sophie? Sophie, don't worry. You're gonna be just fine. I know it hurts right now, but think about it this way: in about ten minutes, it's barely going to sting."

Sophie looked at him, eyes wide as saucers, and her surprise at his unexpected presence was enough to ease her sobbing. She kept gasping, tears flowing steadily from her eyes, but she was quiet now.

"I—I'll go see if we have anything we can wrap it in," I said, thoroughly shaken. I stood up, trying to be slow so the blood wouldn't rush from my head. I didn't do very well with blood. The last thing I needed now was to pass out.

"My friend Emily," Jared said, suddenly, "Sam's girlfriend. She's training to be a nurse, and she's got all these medical supplies. She'll have some bandages and maybe some antiseptic or something to clean it up with. We should really take her there."

I just looked at him, torn, knowing Penelope wouldn't want us to leave, but also aware that Sophie was probably in need of some medical attention so she wouldn't get an infection. "How far away do they live?" I finally asked.

"Maybe ten minutes on foot," Jared said. "I can take us in my truck, though."

"Yeah…yeah, okay." I watched as he leaned down near Sophie and smiled his most dazzling smile.

"Mind if I pick you up?" he asked her. "I don't think you should walk on that leg."

It was a testament to Jared's effortless charm that Sophie nodded and even managed a tiny smile. He gathered her up in his arm, as if she weighed nothing, and looked at me, waiting for direction.

"I'll go get Ethan," I said, and dashed off. He was wiggling in his seat, trying to escape. I buckled him in tighter and held the handle with two hands. Across the street, Jared was already laying Sophie in the back of his truck, laughing at something she'd said.

"I guess they're having fun," I murmured to Ethan, whose only response was a clap. "Now, don't embarrass me by screaming when we get to Emily's, okay?"

He screamed.

"Is he okay?" Jared asked as I walked up with the yelping baby.

"Just pray he'll wear himself out before we get there."

Jared smiled and opened up the back door for me, proving that chivalry was not dead at all. I settled the baby carrier in my lap and buckled myself in next to Sophie while Jared jogged around to his side of the car. Despite the old truck's age, it started up a lot more smoothly than mine did. The purr of the engine coming to life only served to remind me that my car no longer ran. I didn't think I could suffer through another morning of Chris taking me and Sophie to school.

Sophie asked if she was going to die.

"You're not going to die," I told her firmly. "I promise."

"I can't feel my leg," she started gasping. "Oh my God, I can't feel my leg! They're gonna have to cut it off!"

"Relax, Sophie," I soothed, hiding my eye-roll. "You're freaking yourself out. I promise you that you can feel your leg. Calm down. It's all alright."

It felt a little bitchy to hush her this way, but someone had to play the adult here. I wasn't about to let my kid sister think a scraped knee called for amputation just yet.

"Yeah, don't worry, Soph," Jared added. "People skin their knees like this all the time and live to tell about it."

Sophie didn't get to question her mortality for much longer, because soon we were pulling up to a cute little yellow house that sat precariously near a small piece of the ocean. The walkway was lined with a variety of small evergreen shrubs that sparkled with strings of rainbow lights. On the immaculately-painted white front door hung a small wreath interwoven with gold tinsel, glistening under the warm porch light. It was the most loved house I'd ever seen.

I wanted one just like it.

"We're here," Jared announced.

He carried Sophie while I carried Ethan up the stone pathway to the house, bursting into the doorway without knocking.

I opened my mouth to say something, shocked at how comfortably Jared let us into the house. I felt rude for barging in, and lingered near the door.

Before Jared could move out of the foyer, a petite woman wiping her hands on a dishrag peeked around the corner. "Oh, Jared! Back already?"

"Hey, Emi," he said with a slight smile. "I, uh, could use a hand. Sophie here cut up her knee pretty bad on her bike. I thought maybe you'd know what to do."

Emily stepped completely into the room, and the light poured onto her face, unmasking the scars I'd forgotten she had. Her accident was big news in La Push—a bear attack wasn't common for the locals—and the talk had only recently died down.

She raised her eyebrows at Jared, who cocked his head backward in my direction. Her smiling gaze connected with mine instantly, and I mustered a tiny, sheepish smile.

"Oh, of course!" Emily said. "You must be Kim, right?" she addressed me, and I nodded. She beamed, "I'm so excited to meet you. Not under these circumstances, of course, but still."

I returned the pleasantries, and then Emily snapped into nurse-mode, instructing Jared to place Sophie on the couch while she went to get supplies. I sat down next to Sophie, holding Ethan on my lap. The new surroundings fascinated him enough that he was mostly quiet.

"You can put him down if you want," Jared said, probably noticing how squashed I looked under the huge contraption that was Ethan's carrier.

"Oh. Right."

I set the carrier down on the floor, not wanting to dent the pretty velvet couch. Then, in a movement so quick it was like lightning, I whipped out Ethan's blanket and tucked it under Sophie's leg at the exact moment her blood would have spilled over onto the cushion.

I stepped away, feeling a little ninja-like.

Jared noticed little maneuvers, and grinned a bright grin at me, his eyes laughing.

"This might sting a little bit," Emily warned as she reentered the room, carrying a bag of supplies with her.

Sophie inhaled sharply, and I offered her my hand, which she squeezed so tightly the skin turned white.

"Soph, you won't die. Promise," I murmured in her ear.  _Jesus Christ. Since when did her hand get so strong?_

"All I'm going to do is wipe this over the cut," said Emily. She poured some clear liquid onto a pad of material thicker than tissues and dabbed Sophie's leg. The blood immediately seeped through the pad, and Sophie gasped.

"Are you going to get it to stop bleeding?" she asked, her mouth quivering.

"Of course!" Emily said with a smile. "I'll have you just fine in a few minutes. Jared, go take the cookies out of the oven. Wear the mitt so you don't burn yourself. I know you guys think you're invincible, but I like to keep my cookie sheets free of singed skin. Oh, and tell Paul that he left his phone here when you see him next." She told him all of this without looking up from Sophie's knee. I was surprised at how close and comfortable they appeared with each other, almost like siblings.

Once she was done dabbing, Emily peeled off the back of a huge bandage and placed it over Sophie's knee, finishing with a pat. "You're all done, sweetie," she announced. "I'll give your sister a few more bandages, and just remember to change it tonight, tomorrow morning, and maybe once more."

Sophie nodded, her eyes wide to signal her compliance.

I smiled sheepishly and thanked Emily profusely. "Really. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done—"

"Oh, please! It's my pleasure," said Emily.

Jared came back then, sparing me from having to exercise by pitiful small-talk skills. He was carrying a tray of chocolate chip cookies, his hand obediently covered in an oven mitt, smirking as he set them on the table next to Sophie.

"You feeling better?"

Sophie sniffled and let go of my hand. I flexed it, trying to rearrange the bones that seemed to have shifted out of place under my sister's death grip.

Jared's eyes went straight to my hand and then away so quickly I wasn't sure he'd ever looked.

"Oh…thank you—you don't have to—" I tried to protest, but Sophie had already stuffed a cookie in her mouth.

"This is so good!" Sophie exclaimed while her mouth was full.

"Sophie, swallow first." I really hoped Sophie's habit of talking with her mouth full was just a phase.

"Sorry," she said, still chewing.

I sighed, and smiled apologetically at Emily.

"Please, take as many as you want, girls," Emily said graciously. "If you don't, Sam and Paul will get to them, and then we'll have a real problem on our hands."

Jared nodded, mouth also full of cookie, looking infinitely contented with his situation in life.

"We should go," I said, standing up suddenly. I felt like we were intruding. "Thank you so much again, Emily."

Emily smiled, the good corner of her lip lifting up while the scarred one stayed down. Emily had lucked out in the genetic pool, nature giving her strong cheekbones, wide, heavy-lidded eyes, and a curved mouth. But, she had to be aware, now, of how fickle beauty was—in a split second, the attractiveness Emily had surely grown accustomed to throughout her life had been ripped away for her. And yet, I'd never seen someone look so absolutely comfortable in their own skin, as if life couldn't possible have gone any better.

"Come back soon!" Emily said. "Bye, Sophie. I hope your leg feels better."

Sophie smiled shyly. "It does. Thank you, Miss Emily."

Jared stood up to follow us out the door. "Lemme get my keys," he said.

"Oh, no. You don't have to drive us back," I said. "It's a short walk."

Jared looked at me incredulously. "I'll take you."

There was obviously no point in arguing against a free ride, so I lifted up Ethan's crib and followed Jared outside. Sophie hobbled a little dramatically behind us both. I reached out to offer her a hand, but she shook her head, preferring to go with the martyr angle.

As we piled into the car and began on the way home, I though of what Emily had said when she first saw Jared.

"Are you at Emily's house a lot?" I asked.

"Um, yeah, you could say that. Me and Sam, we've been hanging out a lot. And Paul. He's, uh, yeah he's feeling better." He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the topic again. I was, in all honesty, dying to ask exactly what he and Sam—and now apparently Paul—were doing together, and why they'd starting hanging out, but I kept silent. I didn't want to pry.

As we drove, I became acutely aware of what could only be flirting on Sophie's part. She'd leaned forward from her backseat, draping herself over the arm rest, giggling as Jared told her about the time he'd broken his leg falling out of a tree.

I rested my head against the window, smiling. Then I remembered the way I'd basked in his gaze on my porch.

We Connweller girls just couldn't resist Jared Cameron.


	8. Chapter 8

As a rule, I didn't believe in the existence of omens. How did it make any sense that two completely unrelated things could be connected by some mysterious energy? Just because we silly humans needed all our problems in the world to have a pattern did not mean that the world actually worked that way. I used to think it did. Not anymore.

And so, when I woke up Monday morning to a sky the color and texture of newspaper pulp, I didn't think that the looming snowstorm was any indication of how awful that week would turn out. I had, over my lifetime, grown accustomed to winter in La Push; it was predictable. The sky was usually constantly grey, with light, fluffy snow showers if we got lucky, or freezing sleet that dissolved into ice-cold rain by midday if we were less so.

Blizzards like the one that was brewing this morning were rare so early in winter, and seldom lasted for more than a few hours, but this one looked like it would probably consume the entire morning, likely longer. By the time I'd gotten downstairs to the kitchen, the only thing we could see from the windows was angry, churning snow.

Chris, Sophie, and I piled into Chris' economy car, because, despite Chris' best efforts over the weekend, my car remained resentfully silent. Sophie and I huddled in the backseat, squeezed tightly together to retain warmth, both of us pressing our hands to the air vents that were blowing out delightful warm air. Chris' car didn't smell like Dad.

The main roads were plowed, thankfully, but there was traffic, a virtual alien in our small town. Most cars on the road had no idea how to navigate through it, and the normally short drive took twice the time it usually did. We were stopped at two stop lights, a crowded intersection, and three stop signs before we finally pulled into the elementary school.

Sophie gathered up her things, a process made difficult by her bulky snow jacket. I could see Chris begin to fidget, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, before he finally snapped. "Jesus, Sophie, hurry up. I'm late for a meeting. I don't have time for this."

In less than a second, Sophie's brown eyes grew big and shiny with tears. She ripped her schoolbag out of the backseat and slammed the door shut with no goodbye.

"Did you have to go and say that to her?" I demanded as he turned back onto the street, looking unfazed.

Chris raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "What? Sophie? She's fine."

I closed my eyes. "No," I said slowly, "She's not _fine. You_ made her cry." Chris knew perfectly well that Sophie looked up to him, and yet all he and Penelope ever did was criticize her.

"Sophie is ten," Chris rolled his eyes. "She should be old enough to know not to be so sensitive. Things are tough. It's the way they are. We can't baby her all the time."

Now I was about to cry. Chris didn't know how to be a parent, or even a brother. I hadn't been aware that he didn't know how to be a human being, either. Here he was, implying that our orphaned baby sister had a problem because she was "sensitive." I'd never hated anyone as much as I hated him right then.

I went completely silent, staring straight ahead, saying nothing as Chris cut off a school bus, and nothing as he cussed at the car in front of us for "going so damn slow."

It wasn't until I had a grip on my backpack and one foot out the door, that, turning back to stare straight at his face, I said, "Sophie is nine."

I slammed the door and left.

* * *

In English class, I found myself unable to meet Jared's eyes. Something about the look he'd given me on my porch last Friday, that look I'd reveled in and wanted so badly, scared me now that it was daytime. We were in school, surrounded by other people, and prospect of his heated gaze on me terrified me more than it ever did before.

So, I avoided looking at him. It was hard, especially because we were together most of the day, but my fear gave me the willpower I needed. Every time he tried to start a conversation with me, I gave him short, noncommittal responses, then tried to dismiss the confusion and hurt that radiated from his face.

_What are you to him? How could you possibly hurt him?_

By the end of the day, he had caught on that I wanted him to stop speaking to me. He also likely thought I was a freak.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. Why wasn't I over the moon that he finally wanted to talk to me? Wasn't I hoping, only last week, that he would strike up conversations with me? Hadn't I been so excited that we had passed notes in class?

_Yeah, I think I'm a freak, too._

The next day, Jared was absent. The disappointment I felt in my gut at the sight of his empty seat was too much for my sanity to handle. I, therefore, spent all of Tuesday the same way I'd spent all of Monday: feeling like a freak.

Hadn't I wanted to avoid him only yesterday? Didn't I refuse to say more than two words to him all day? Wasn't I actively trying to avoid his gaze?

_So why do you keep glancing at the door, hoping he'll show up, Kimberly?_

As if the past couple of days weren't enough of an emotional toll, all anyone could talk about was Jared. Yet again. And where he had disappeared to. Yet again. Granted, they talked just as much, if not more, about Paul. The same rumors that had floated around Jared's absence were now amplified around Paul's, probably because he usually had such a big presence.

I tried to block out the whispers, but my ears proved ever-sensitive to Jared's name. And so, when my Psych teacher left to use the restroom, I found myself staring at the fake wood grains on my plastic desk, eavesdropping intently to the conversation Courtney, Tia, and their friend Ashley were having next to me.

"Well, shouldn't you of all people know where Jared is?" Ashley, a generally sourly girl, asked Tia. "Aren't you guys, like, a thing? Or so you say."

"When I asked him yesterday, he just said he missed my party because something urgent came up." She shrugged, slumping into her seat.

"Look, Paul's just sick, but Jared's been ditching everyone lately," Courtney said, nonchalant as usual. "I don't think anyone knows where the hell he's been."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Tia bite her lip. I felt a little bad for her. It had been her birthday on Friday, and they were sort of together, weren't they? It hadn't been unreasonable for her to expect him there.

"Besides, I didn't say we're a thing," Tia added, and Courtney slipped a hand over hers. "We're just hooking up."

"Well, Kim might know," Ashley suggested, her voice only slightly venomous. "He was talking to her the day he came back."

I jumped at the mention of my name, then felt my face flush embarrassingly red as all three of them turned to me at the same time, their faces expectant. Ashley looked a little pleased with herself. Courtney looked curious, but friendly enough. Tia's face was absolutely unreadable, her teeth still gnawing on her lower lip.

I briefly contemplated telling them that Jared had been with me on Friday, just to see how they would have reacted. However, I did not want to remind myself of Friday night's details, and besides, they probably wouldn't have believed me.

"Really? You've seen Jared, Kim?" Courtney prompted when I didn't respond right away.

"Uh, no, I haven't," I fumbled with my words. "I don't know where he is."

Thankfully, the Psych teacher was walking back in as I spoke. The three girls turned away, having gotten the response they'd expected, and calm and quiet were restored to Kimberly's Brain.

* * *

Dr. Sharpe's office was cold.

So cold that I left my jacket on even after she told me to "make myself comfortable." So cold that I was beginning to lose the feeling in my left foot. So cold that I wondered if she was even aware that it was thirty degrees and snowing outside. _Maybe she hasn't left her house in a few days._

"So," she began, her voice cheerful and spritely, unfazed by the chill. "How has your week been, Kim?"

As if I could focus on my week when my body was beginning the transformation into a human icicle.

"Um, it was alright," I told her. "Pretty uneventful."

I decided to skip over all the emotional tumult. Maybe we just hadn't reached the Trusted Confidant stage of our doctor-patient relationship, but I highly doubted that we ever would. The thought of opening up to Dr. Sharpe, who seemed to have her life in perfect order, and telling her about my royally messed-up problems made me incredibly uncomfortable.

I was also uncomfortable because it was so damn cold.

"Do you think, maybe, uh, you could turn the heat on or something?" I finally asked.

"Oh, certainly," Dr. Sharpe said, like she'd just realized that we were currently sitting in a freezer. "Sorry. My last patient wanted it to be cold, and I find that people are more open if you let them have their way. Feel free to adjust the thermostat any time you like."

I practically ran for the thermostat next to the door, turning the heat on high and shivering in anticipation of the defrosting that would soon take place.

"Much better," she said off handedly. "Now then, is there anything you'd like to talk about in particular?"

"No." I was officially the worst patient ever. "Not really, no."

"Well, what do you teenagers do for fun these days? Parties and such?"

"Uh, yeah, just the usual. Lots of beer and stuff. I don't really like drinking." I scrunched my nose a little, and neglected to tell her that I hardly ever went out.

"Hm, but you do it anyway?" I almost gawked at her. How could she possibly have known that? True, I didn't go out often, but when I did, I always made sure to come home very tipsy at the very least.

"I don't enjoy the process," I tried to explain, flustered, "but being drunk makes me feel…light somehow. So I like that." I pressed my lips together, indicating that I wasn't going to say any more on the matter. She nodded and jotted something down. I got the feeling that she was compiling a file on me, but I supposed that was her job.

"What about drugs?" she continued, looking up. "I know a lot of those go around high schools these days. Have you ever tried any?"

I snickered to myself as I remembered Mr. Counsell telling me about his Ecstasy days. I really wanted to tell Dr. Sharpe that I'd tried it, just to see her face, but thought better of it. Who knew to what extent this doctor-patient confidentiality covered illegal drugs?

Instead, I shrugged. "Sure, there's some floating around. I've tried a few cigarettes…here and there. It's never become a habit, though. Just something to keep my hands busy." Here and there, of course, referred to the two instances I had smoked with Robert Williams.

"And what about boys? Anyone special in your life?" I jumped. This woman was really starting to scare me. Her questions seemed pointed directly at my private thoughts.

There was no way I was bringing up either of the boys that had been in my life.

I was certainly not going to tell her about Jared. Since high school, I'd never talked to anyone besides Mr. Counsell about my feelings for Jared. And the thought of telling her—or, rather, anyone—about Rob…well, I would rather have jumped off a cliff.

"No," I blurted out, perhaps a little too quickly, my face beginning to flush. Obviously a natural reaction to the warm air blowing out of the vents.

If Dr. Sharpe noticed—and I was pretty certain she did—she didn't give any indication.

Nervously, my eyes flitted around her room as she wrote in her notepad. On the little table next to her armrest, my eyes caught a gem-studded picture frame, tilted in a way so that both she and I could easily see it. All it featured was Dr. Sharpe and two other girls, arms wrapped around each other, grinning at the camera like they were having the best time of their lives. They weren't holding cups, but it had obviously been taken at a club, maybe in Seattle.

"Who are they?" I asked, motioning with one arm to the photo.

She smiled warmly. "My sister and my best friend. That was at my bachelorette party."

I hadn't known she was married, but when I thought about it, of course she was. Everything else about her seemed worked-out and put-together. It only made sense that her love life was, too. I didn't feel the need to ask her about her marriage. She was probably forbidden to discuss the details of her life, anyway. And besides, I wasn't the least bit curious.

* * *

I managed to get through the next day and a half without feeling too resentful toward the world. Jared was absent, but I was numb. And doing fine. I had always been fine before, hadn't I?

Lunch on Thursday, however, was a different story.

I hadn't had time to pack my lunch that morning, and I was actually hungry for once, so I swallowed my irrational dread at stepping foot into the cafeteria and got into line with the rest of the student body. Everyone was huddled with their group of friends, so I lingered near the back, pretending to search through my backpack so I wouldn't appear like such a loner.

"Hey, Kim."

The voice made my blood freeze. _No. No, no, no. You are so not doing this to me right now, World!_

My stomach muscles clenched and my heart sped up so fast that I couldn't find my voice. I could barely glance up at his face, which was casually indifferent and making its way closer and closer towards me.

I stumbled backwards, and caught myself on a water fountain.

"Come on, Kim," Rob said, his voice friendly enough that, for a second, I wondered if I was just imagining the venom. "Can't I just say hi to an old friend?"

 _We are NOT friends._ I wanted to scream. I wanted to kick and shove and fight and do all the things…

But, as if I was drunk again, I couldn't get any of my muscles to respond.

Before I could react, Rob was in front of me.

"So, how've you been?" he asked.

"F-fine," I said.

 _Please go away please go away please go away. Please make this go away_.

"Any new boyfriends?"

How dare he ask me that? How dare he approach me, speak to me, and ask me something like that? And suddenly I was angry. Furious. Anger built up in my stomach, boiled over to the point of pure rage, and I snapped, "No. And you have no right to ask."

In a second, his face registered shock and anger. I'd never stood up for myself before. Not even close.

"You know, it wasn't all me," he said in a low voice, and he put his arm on my shoulder as he spoke. "You can act like the victim all you want, but we both know you aren't innocent."

I struggled to shake myself free, feeling the panic tighten my chest.

"Take your hands off of her!" someone yelled, rushing toward us. Through my unfocused eyes, I recognized Ella, pushing through the line of students now staring at me.

"Don't touch her," Ella spat, standing firmly in front of Rob, effectively blocking him from my view. "You're a fucking asshole, you know that, Robert? Why don't you try to do something useful with your life for a change?"

There was a collective gasp and a chorus of chuckles and "ooh"s as Ella turned her back on him and examined me closely. "C'mon," she said softly. "Let's get you outside." She took my hand and led me out of the double doors closest to where we stood. The second they slammed shut, I let out the breath I'd been holding in. It came out broken and shaking.

"Ella…" I began to thank her, but she cut me off.

"Kim, please," she said with a wave of her hand. "We may have grown apart, but no one gets to talk that way to someone I care about."

Then I began to apologize, but she brushed that off too.

"You had a lot going on." She gave me a tight smile.

"Yeah," I took a deep breath, shoving down the lump that had been ballooning in my throat.

We were under an awning in front of the cafeteria back entrance, overlooking the student parking lot. It was snowing lightly again, the white fluff floating down and covering the ground with a thin layer of mush.

"This is why I stay in the library during lunch," I said, mostly as a joke.

"So that's where you go," Ella exclaimed. "I've always wondered where you disappear to for an hour."

"Yeah," I said. "I just find talking to Mr. Counsell preferable to scenes like the one in there."

"What did Rob say to you?" she asked quietly. She met my eyes with her huge hazel ones, and all at once I was anxious again, trying to come up with a reasonable lie.

"Just some stuff about what happened a while ago…" I told her vaguely, looking at my shoes.

"What did happen, back then?" she asked.

"I…um…I…"

"I always meant to ask you, you know," Ella said. "I was going to wait a few weeks until I thought you were ready. But then…the accident…I don't know. It just didn't seem as important anymore."

"It wasn't," I agreed. Ironically enough, if it hadn't been for my parents' accident, I'd probably have been even more messed up by what happened with Rob. As things played out, I'd never had enough energy to dwell on it.

Ella must have suspected, even before I did, that I was about to lose the flimsy hold I had on my emotions. Suddenly, her arms were wrapped around me and I was sobbing onto her shoulder, because it had been so long since someone had hugged me that way. I had forgotten how absolutely wonderful it felt.

After a few long moments, I began to pull away, wiping my arms on my sleeves and sniffling. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

Ella didn't reply. When I looked up, I saw her looking over my shoulder, and then back at me, trying to communicate something with her eyes.

"What?" I mouthed, but she just tilted her head.

"Kim?" The deep, gruff voice made me start.

Of course.

Jared.

I turned around slowly, praying that my eyes weren't as puffy as they felt. I tried very, very hard to plaster a fake grin onto my face, but I didn't have that kind of talent. The best I could do was try to keep from crying again as I spoke.

"Oh, Jared. Hey. Where have you been?"

Jared's eyebrows furrowed, and in two strides he was directly in front of me, one hand wrapped around each of my arms. "Oh, God, Kim. What's wrong? What happened? Did—"

"I'm fine," I gasped. I was unable to think of a proper excuse, so concentrated was I on the sturdy grip his warm fingers kept on me. They felt reassuring, as if nothing could go wrong as long as he held me.

"No, you're not," he countered. "You've been crying." He said it quietly, as if he was telling me a deep, dark secret.

"No, really, I'm okay," I insisted. I glanced at Ella, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes.

"Who did it?" he demanded. When I didn't respond, he turned and asked her the same question.

Ella obviously hadn't been expecting his question. "Kim just ran into Robert Williams, that's all," she said, the quickly added, "But it was nothing. She's fine now."

Jared's eyes shot to my face. His nostrils flared and I felt a ripple of unease rush through my body. "What did he say to you? What did he do?" he growled, his face dark.

"Hey, Jared?" another voice cut in. And then Paul was there, putting a hand on Jared shoulder. "Calm down, man."

I hadn't even noticed Paul standing behind him. After more than a week of absence, his presence in this new reality where Jared spoke to me seemed a bit out of place. I only had a moment's time to look at Paul though—only enough to see him grin tensely at me—before Jared's voice brought me to face him again.

"What did he say?" he repeated. "Did he upset you?"

"He just…said some things I'd wanted to forget," I mumbled to a spot on his shirt.

Jared's eyes darted all over my face for a few seconds before he snapped to attention and let go of me, making me sway a bit; I hadn't realized how much of my weight he'd been supporting. I thought for a second he was going to make a run for it, but then he threw open the doors to the cafeteria with an almighty bang.

"Oh, shit," Paul said, running in after him.

"What's he…" Ella began, then trailed off. For a minute, we both froze, because we'd finally gotten a good look at Paul.

He had grown at least four inches, just like Jared had after his absence, and filled out, his muscles huge. He'd cut his hair, too, and from the back, he and Jared could have passed for twins.

Ella blinked, then looked at me, coming to her senses before I did. "We should go in."

I nodded, still a little dazed, and followed. Everyone already had their attention turned to the front of the line, where Jared was approaching Rob. I'd never seen him look as angry as he did at that moment, when he opened his mouth and said something inaudible. Rob appeared to be slightly taken aback, and I saw him respond with something then shrug. That was when Jared Cameron went nuts.

He shoved Rob into the wall and had him pinned up in a second; Rob struggled, but couldn't free himself.

"If you ever say another word to Kim again, I will personally beat the shit out of you," he snarled into Rob's ear. "And if I ever see her even the slightest bit upset over something you've done, I will kill you."

Although the words weren't loud, they were bone-chillingly clear.

Rob laughed, the sound shrill and hysterical. "She's nothing but a slut, man. Why are you wasting your time?"

Jared roared—literally roared—and punched Rob in the abdomen with such force that he crumbled to the ground. Jared stood over him, ready to attack again, but Paul had grabbed both of his arms and held them tightly behind his back. Jared was struggling, but he was shaking too hard to fight through Paul's grip.

"Oh my God," Ella breathed. "Kim, don't…"

But I was already rushing to Jared's side, doing my best to ignore the stares as I reached the center of the conflict. I instinctively put a hand on Jared's forearm and whispered his name.

He snapped his head to me, his eyes black and wild, and I recoiled. I removed my arm and took two visible steps backward, blinking and stunned. Paul extended a hand to help me catch my balance.

Jared's expression softened immediately, and he lifted both of his hands in front of him, slowly, as if to convince me that he meant no harm. His eyes looked pained, but he didn't move a muscle.

I sucked in a breath. I wasn't afraid of Jared, but I was suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on me. I flushed under the unusual attention. I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this. If there was one thing I hated most in the world, it was the collective gaze of those prying, teenage eyes.

Before I could really get my brain to rationalize to the situation, my reflexes kicked in and I took off in the other direction. I pushed through the crowd, refusing to break into a run that would show my vulnerability, forcing my eyes as wide as they would open to keep the tears from flowing out.

The only place I could think to go was the library, where I should have been all along. But Mr. Stark would have stared at me with his wise, sympathetic eyes, and he would said, "Kimmy, you can't trust any of those boys, as tempting as it seems."

And I would have burst into tears, because I wanted, more than anything, to trust Jared with all my heart.

I thought that I could be okay, maybe, with Jared as my friend. I could be…fine that way. Happiness was so far out of my reach that it seemed useless to wish for it, and I'd been unhappy for so long that even the slightest reprieve would have been welcomed. "Fine" seemed like the best thing that I could feel.

I stopped outside the library, my hand resting on the cool door handle, focusing on not breaking out in sobs. Never in my life had I felt so completely alone.

* * *

Paul Lahote knew, just by looking at his best friend, that there was nothing he could say to console him. He took Jared into the bathroom anyway, if only to flick water on his face and calm him down. It had taken all of his might to wrestle Jared out of the cafeteria and away from Robert Williams, but he had been so mad with anger that Paul managed.

Though he felt guilty about it, Paul couldn't deny that he was just a little bit smug at the way the morning had panned out. First, he had gotten Sam's okay to come back to school after being away for a much shorter time than Jared. Now, he, Paul Lahote, was playing the calm friend who had to keep Jared from losing it.

 _Let's see Jared made another snide comment about my temper after today,_ Paul couldn't help but think with satisfaction.

He'd never seen Jared this out of control, but then again, Jared did have a good reason for losing it with relative consistency in the past few days. Any closeness he had formed with Kim the week before had flown out the window that Monday, and Jared couldn't figure out why.

It was a little ironic that Jared Cameron, arguably the biggest lady's man in school, (aside, of course, from Paul himself,) had imprinted on little Kim Connweller, the most quiet girl Paul knew. He also knew, though he had the decency to keep it from Jared, that Kim had had a pretty big crush on Jared for the better part of their entire lives. Now, when Jared wanted Kim with all his heart, she was giving him a very rough time. Served him right for failing to notice her. Thinking about the romantic justice of it all was almost enough, despite Jared's current condition, to make Paul laugh.

Almost.

"Jesus Christ!" Paul said in shock as Jared delivered a wicked shove to one of the sinks that lined the boys' bathroom wall. The sink groaned as it dislodged halfway from the wall. "Jared, calm down. You don't have to break the school."

"Fuck!" Jared raged, aiming a fist into the tiled wall, but not with enough force to make a hole. "I swear I could tear that asshole's head off. And now she's probably fucking scared of me. I've ruined my chances, she's not going to want anything to do with me, and I can't blame her…"

Paul let him ramble on for a while, until Jared finally fell silent and slunk to the floor, face in palm.

He was a broken man.

Again, Paul wanted to laugh. The situation wasn't exactly funny, but he was fairly sure that it could be resolved in five minutes if Jared wasn't so scared of what he thought Kim might say.

"I don't think Kim's afraid of you," Paul offered. "She's just, you know, she's confused."

"Well I don't want to confuse her," Jared said. "And I don't want to make her scared. Or uncomfortable. And that's all I ever seem to do. God, why can't I make her happy? Literally, my only job is to make her happy, and I can't even do it right."

Paul didn't know what to say. Jared was right, but it wasn't his fault. Not completely, anyway. Kim had been pretty messed up for a while before he imprinted on her, and it definitely wasn't all because Jared didn't return her feelings.

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Paul asked hesitantly. "I could just ask her how she is, if she's okay…"

Jared agreed almost immediately. He got to his feet as if he had no strength left in his body, yet he still had the energy to warn Paul. "Don't bring up Rob unless she does. It might upset her. Oh, and don't—"

"Dude," Paul interrupted. "I'm just going to say hi. You don't need to write me a script."

"Okay, yeah, but—"

Paul put up his hand and closed his eyes.

"Jared. Chill. I got this." Jared didn't protest again. Paul imagined that Jared wasn't having very much fun at the moment, needing to rely on someone else to cheer up the object of his imprint— _his_ soul mate—but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Stay here," Paul instructed, but he didn't bother to put real meaning behind it. They both knew Jared would be eavesdropping.

Paul walked out of the bathroom and down the hall, acting casual and quickly locating Kim. He thought she looked like the smallest person in the world, sitting cross-legged on the bench outside the library, her arms tucked inside her jacket.

She looked up and met his gaze with her sad doe eyes, and without a word, he sat down beside her. They stayed there for a few minutes in companionable silence, respectively not willing and too nervous say anything.

Finally, if was Kim who spoke first.

"You were gone for a pretty long time, huh?"

_Oh. Shit._

Paul should have been prepared for her question. Any normal person would have wanted to know where he had disappeared to. Frantically, he scoured his brain.

"Uh, yeah. Mono, or something. I don't really know. I'm better now, though."

She nodded. "That's good."

More silence.

"Kim, are—"

"Do you remember my tenth birthday party?"

Paul stifled a shocked, awkward laugh. "Um…no. Can't say that I do."

"Oh." Kim wasn't surprised. "My mom organized this really big party. There was a bouncy castle, even though it was the middle of winter. She literally invited everyone. You and Jared were there, and Courtney and Tia and Vince and Ella. Everyone our age, you know. "

"I remember." And he did, now. Vaguely.

"I mean, you know how parents are," she went on. "It's not really about who's friends with whom. They just invite the parents they want to hang out with."

Paul nodded.

"And so, we were all in the bouncy castle, like, fifteen of us. Courtney said we should play spin the bottle, and even though I didn't want to, I agreed, because I didn't want to sound immature." Kim took a deep breath and continued, faster than before. "And I did something so stupid. I told Jared, before we started, that I didn't want him to kiss anyone other than me, because it was my birthday. He promised he wouldn't. It wasn't psycho or anything, right? I mean, we were just kids."

Paul nodded.

"Did he?" He remembered the bouncy castle. The grownups had made them all go outside, so they huddled in there, because it was warm. The details were blurry, though, almost as if his ten-year-old self had gotten drunk. "Kiss you, I mean?"

"He kissed Courtney twice and I spent the whole night crying," she said flatly.

"Oh."

Paul could practically feel Jared's insides being ripped out and repeatedly stomped on as he listened from around the corner. Even his own insides twisted a little with guilt. Poor ten-year-old Kim. It had been her birthday, after all.

"Yeah. So, I have to ask. What does Jared want with me?" For the first time, her voice wavered. "Why is he talking to me now? I can't stand to be messed with, Paul. Not like this."

"He isn't—"

"I know that you're his best friend, but you've always been nice to me, and maybe we'll never be friends or anything, but you have to tell me why." Then, in a very small, very thin voice, she added, "I'll go crazy." Paul faced her then, and saw clearly what she told him with her silent gaze.

_You know how long I've loved him. You know what he does to me._

Paul noted that full disclosure from both sides would probably have made them both a lot happier a lot sooner. Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to do the disclosing for either of them, but he could at least chip in.

"He wouldn't hurt you, Kim. He's not that kind of guy. Besides, he likes you. A lot."

Kim raised her eyebrow at him.

"Really. Jared Cameron likes me a lot." She didn't even pose her words as a question. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. Clearly, she didn't believe him.

Paul felt defeated. What was he supposed to say to that? He shrugged and held up his hands.

"Look, I've told you what I know."

She just looked away.

"Well, I can't be involved with anyone right now," Kim finally said.

"Sure you can."

"I really can't," she snapped.

"Why not?" Paul asked.

"I'm kind of messed up."

"Well, nobody's perfect. We're all messed up in our own ways."

"I'm also bad at relationships," Kim continued.

"You wouldn't know. You haven't been in a relationship for a long time."

It was the closest he'd come to bringing up Rob, and Kim seemed to sense that it was a subject that he didn't want to breach.

"Rob and I weren't in a relationship." She breached it anyway. It was her right, after all. "Not even close."

Instead of pushing, Paul decided to make an attempt at humor. "Even more reason to try it out. Who knows? Maybe relationships could be your thing."

She just looked at him with her blank expression, then blinked.

"Tell Jared that I'm not interested. I don't need to set myself up to get hurt."

Paul didn't know what to do. Hadn't he just told her that Jared liked her? It was so messed up that she couldn't believe him, but Jared had indeed ignored Kim for a very long time. He wanted nothing more than to tell her all about Jared's new epiphanies, but instead, he just sighed.

"I don't think he'll take no for an answer."

Kim let out a single, bitter laugh. It sounded like a scoff.

"I just need to be left alone. I'm sure he can respect that."

The bell rang then, and they both hesitated, deciding the next move. Paul rose to his feet and handed Kim her bag. She let him slip the strap into her hand.

"I'll see you around, Paul," she muttered, and before he could answer, she was disappearing down the hall.

When Paul looked for Jared in his hiding spot, he was gone.

As the halls began to fill with people, Paul sank down onto the now-empty library bench, massaging his temples. _Sam better give me a fucking night off for this._

Then he went to chase after Jared.


	9. Chapter 9

"Kim? Your friend's on the phone!" I woke from my restless afternoon nap, my face pressed into my mattress, pillow over my head, to Penelope's ever-cheerful voice. Needless to say, I had needed a rest from the emotionally taxing day, but I was a bit thankful that Penelope had woken me up. I couldn't remember what I'd been dreaming about, but I knew it hadn't been anything pleasant.

Climbing down the ladder, my mind still foggy from sleep, I nearly fell off and cracked my head open on the smooth garage floor. I gripped the city ladder rungs tighter with my toes.

It was Ella on the phone, asking if I was alright. Apparently, I hadn't been picked up my cell phone. I made a mental note to dig it out from the depths of my backpack.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I responded as casually as I could. What else was I going to say? Tell her I never wanted to leave my bed again? "Thanks for checking up on me. It means a lot."

"Of course! What are friends for?" I bit my lip, letting myself feel guilty. As far as friends went, she was a pretty exemplary model, especially in comparison to the way I'd treated her.

"Anyway, are you free tomorrow night?" she continued. "My cousin's having a party, and I was wondering if you'd want to go." Her voice started to adopt a thread of hesitation, probably thinking I'd refuse.

Theo, the cousin the question, was a reasonably popular and generally nice Senior. His parents had a house a little ways into the woods, in a secluded clearing, and Theo liked to have huge keg parties in his yard.

"There'll be lots of free alcohol, obviously, and from what I've heard, he got a new set of speakers recently, so the music should be amazing," she added when I didn't respond right away. "Please, Kim? Come. It'll be fun."

After a moment of thought, I agreed. As much as I liked to think that she had finally gotten through to me, and that, maybe, I was magically ready to have friends and go out again, I couldn't deny that the promise of free booze was part of my decision.

"So, what should I wear?" I asked when she'd finished her squeals of excitement.

"Something hot, definitely," she said, as if that was helpful advice. "Maybe we can find you a normal boy for a change."

I was surprised that I didn't cringe. "Maybe," I smirked.

* * *

Jared was absent again the next day, but Paul was in school. In Calculus, he even made an effort to sit next to me, (a possibility only in this class, because Mr. Foglino was too busy basking in his nihilist existence to fuss about something as worldly as assigned seating). When Paul struck up a conversation with me, asking for math help that I knew he didn't need, I had to fight the urge to inquire after Jared's absence. I didn't want to give him mixed signals after our conversation yesterday.

After school, I fixed myself a quick, early dinner, kissed Sophie goodbye, and told Penny, who was just returning from the grocery store, that I was heading out.

"Oh! Are you coming back for dinner?"

I shook my head and motioned to the remains of my cereal and melted brie-on-crackers.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"You know, there's a lot of fat in that cheese," she commented offhandedly. I tried not to roll my eyes. Sometimes, I didn't know how she'd gotten to this age without someone slapping her.

"I'll live." I stood up to go grab my things, ignoring the fact that, not only did she not ask where was going, she also appeared not to hear my vague comment about when I'd be back home.

_She's just glad you're finally socializing. Be thankful. A normal person would be thrilled._

* * *

Ella picked me up soon after, as we'd arranged, and drove to her house so we could get ready together. I'd put on my favorite pair of jeans—not the _most_ attractive pair I owned, but I truly loathed being uncomfy—and a black scoop neck sweater that was tight enough not to appear too casual.

In her bathroom, Ella insisted on curling my hair for me after she'd straightened her own. While I smudged on some eye makeup and dabbed on some lip-gloss, she went to go change, and came back from her room in knee-high boots, a plaid dress with a white collar showing from underneath, and a black cardigan.

"What do you think?" she asked, looking down at her immaculate outfit.

"You look amazingly uncomfortable," I grinned, "but amazing nonetheless."

"You too! Love your eyeliner." She beamed back. I was glad. This was starting to feel almost normal.

The party was already started when we drove up, all the lights on in and around the house and a large crowd of teenagers intermingling in the yard. Some looked drunk already, which, considering it was barely 9pm, might have been a little sad. I envied them anyway, because at that moment I looked forward to nothing more than getting wasted enough to forget this whole week.

"Do you think Jared will be here?" Ella asked as we entered, a little loudly over the music.

I blushed, but nobody seemed to hear. "Well, he's been away from school most of this week, so maybe he's sick again," I barely whispered back.

Ella, thankfully, didn't bring up yesterday's episode with Jared and Paul. Instead, she laced her fingers with mine, leading me around the entranceway, where a huge group had gathered, and into the kitchen.

There was mostly beer on the counter, but a few half-full bottles of vodka and gin were also lying around. I found a new plastic cup, filled it up halfway with vodka, and forced it down in a few gulps.

"Whoa, slow down," Ella laughed, opening a beer for herself. "You don't want to get totally wasted before it's midnight."

"Yes I do," I gasped, making a beeline to the bottle of orange juice on the breakfast table and taking a huge gulp to chase down the alcohol.

I grabbed a beer and let Ella lead me around the house, occasionally stopping to make small talk with someone from one of my classes. I made sure to get a new can before my last beer ran out, and lost count at four. A while later, I found myself holding my body steady against a column, talking to Travis from Physics.

"Jeez, Kim," he said. "I didn't know you were such a lightweight." I narrowed my eyes at him. My drunk self always hated when people thought I was drunk, even though they were almost always making a valid observation.

"I am _not_ a lightweight," I protested. "I'll have you know that I've had, like, twenty-five beers tonight and, ahem, I'm just getting started."

Then I giggled at the face he made like it was the funniest thing I had ever seen. I thought that it was a damn shame that Travis decided to question my drinking abilities. He was otherwise a great guy. I told him these observations, leaning in close to his ear so he could hear over the music.

"So, you're an okay guy," I concluded, nodding at my skills of deduction. He laughed, and reached over to grab me another beer.

Obviously, to an outsider, this would have looked like flirting, but in reality I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew was that it felt good to laugh at stupid things and say whatever popped into my head. I was pretty sure that, on the flirting skills scale, I ranked a solid one even when I tried.

Ella eventually claimed me again, and forcibly sat me down on the couch to talk to Courtney Loquato. I took one look at Courtney's pretty smile and perfect hair and wanted to bolt.

_Oh, good God. She is literally the last person I want to spend my drunk time with._

"Hey Kim!" she sang out, embracing me in a huge, sloppy hug that told me she was as drunk as I was. I opened another can of beer and tried to smile.

"So, have you seen Jared today? What's his deal anyway? Are you two, like, together now? Because Tia won't stop talking about it ever since she heard about what happened with you two yesterday and today she asked me to ask you, 'cause, you know, she's kinda had a crush on him since August but she doesn't really get what's up with him and frankly neither do I and I'm really curious so I just thought I'd ask you—Oh, don't worry. She won't get mad or anything it's really just a casual thing with them and she's pretty chill about it but she just _really_ wants to know so will you tell me? You can tell me! You can _totally_ tell me!"

I blinked, feeling a little speechless under the sliding avalanche of her words.

"Uh, we're not together," I slurred. "I don't…I don't know what his deal is…"

Tia came over to sit with us for a few moments, whispering into her best friend's ear.

 _Just kidding, just kidding! I want to hang out with Tia_ so _much less than I want to hang out with Courtney._

Sudden, I saw Tia get up, take a deep breath, and walk over to someone standing near. In a second, the someone had his arms wrapped around her waist while she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him with abandon.

I watched for a couple of seconds before registering what was happening. When I finally did, a very crisp, very vivid image of Jared and Tia, standing and making out in Jared's room, filled my head.

 _Wait! Stopitstopitstopit._ Please, _make that go away. I didn't mean what I said before, I swear! I'd rather hang out with them both forever than see that again!_

I squeezed Ella's hand, standing up and indicating that I wanted to walk away, and that was when things began to get really fuzzy. I stumbled backward, only to be caught by a pair of very strong, very warm hands. I tried desperately to spin around, but the action just made my head pound so much that I couldn't make out who it was.

"Alright, Kim," said the authoritative voice. "I think you've had enough for one night."

I choked on my own spit in relief. "Hi, Paul!" I said, jumping up to throw my arms around his neck. By then I couldn't really help but admit that I was wasted, so I let his comment slip. Besides, it was really, _really_ good to see that it was Paul who'd caught me, because if Jared saw me like this…well, I may as well have dug a hole right there and jumped in.

"Come on," Paul said, looking a little freaked out. "Come outside."

"Wait, Kim, where are you going?" Ella's hand had found mine, and she looked from me to Paul, then to his hand holding onto my arm, concerned. I waved my free hand at her.

"Issokay, issokay," I grinned. "Paul and I are having a great time."

It took very little of Paul's effort to drag me outside into the frigid air. I could tell he was worried, and maybe a little annoyed, too.

"Kim, do you have any idea what Jared's going to do when he sees you like this?"

"What?" I cried. "He's not here, is he? Oh my God, he can't see me now!"

"Well," he tried to reason with me, "You need someone to take care of you. How many drinks have you had, anyway?"

"None of your business," I huffed, a little indignant. "And I can take care of myself just fine."

"I watched you for the entire twenty minutes I was here, and I saw you down three," he lamented.

"Hey! It isn't your job to _protect_ me, Paul!" I insisted, attempting to stagger away from him.

"No," I thought I heard him mutter, "but it's Jared's." I peered at him with squinted eyes, confused. "I just texted him," he announced, louder now so I could hear him clearly.

My senses were much slower than usual, but I could have sworn that Paul pulled out his phone then and put it back in his pocket in less than five seconds. But then, I might have been hallucinating by that point.

"You _texted_ him? Why on Earth would you do that? Paul, I really don't want Jared to see me right now! Do you see the state I'm in?"

He let me rant at him for a few minutes, making sure I didn't wander into the forest alone or do anything nuts. Finally, he sighed and patted my back. "Jared's here," he said simply.

I groaned from the back of my throat and closed my eyes. When I opened them, Jared had emerged from the forest like a true mountain man, wearing ripped jeans and a sweatshirt, his hair messy as could be. I took a deep breath and tried not to puke.

As he walked towards me, he glanced pointedly at Paul, who inclined his head before ducking away. I watched as Paul jogged back to the house, leaving me alone with my nightmare.

"Kim," Jared said in an indecipherable tone.

"You don't have to be here, Jared," I whispered. My voice felt very far away. "Please go away."

In a moment he was very close to me, placing a hand on each of my shoulders, his fingers digging firmly into my arm. They didn't hurt. His grip felt good.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he snapped, his voice deep and crazed. "You can't just—do you know what—you're not allowed to just – "

I scoffed audibly, shoving his arms off of me. "Who are you to tell me what I'm allowed to do?"

That seemed to resonate with him, and he slowly gained control of himself. He took a step backwards, not breaking his gaze on my face, and implored, "At least let me take you home."

"I can't go home," I said miserably. "My sister-in-law will hear me come in and check on me and flip her shit at how wasted I am. She'll send me away to Wyoming!"

"Wait. Who lives in Wyoming?"

"Nobody! Nobody lives in fucking Wyoming!" I yelled. I really was wasted.

Suddenly, I felt a sob rise in my throat, and let it out in a shallow gasp. I pressed my palm to my temple and tried to imagine myself somewhere else—anywhere else—besides here, in front of Jared Cameron, about to burst into loud, theatric tears.

"Kim, no, it's okay, don't…" Jared took a cautious step forward, testing me for any resistance. When I didn't give any, he carefully wrapped his arms around me, holding me so snugly I wanted to melt into him.

"Shit, don't cry," he begged, running a hand in soothing circles over my back.

It was an unbelievably intimate embrace, and had I been slightly more sober I surely would have pushed away. Instead, I let Jared hold me while I struggled to contain my emotions, feeling a shame that could only have been likened to that of a five-year-old who couldn't hold back his tears up after scraping his knee in front of his friends. I didn't want Jared to witness my emotional unraveling, and yet I didn't see how I could survive without his firm, steady hug.

We stood like that for a long time, and eventually I did step away, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. I sniffled and wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket.

"It could be worse, you know," I said. "I could be a mean drunk."

Jared tried to laugh at my lame attempt at humor, but his eyes still looked troubled. "Are you okay, Kim? Really?"

I laughed a laugh that turned into a hiccup. No. No, I wasn't okay. I hadn't been okay for a long, long time, and it wasn't okay for him to ask me. It wasn't okay for him to comfort me when he was part of the reason I was crying. It wasn't okay for him to come into my life without an explanation, and it wouldn't be okay when he would inevitably leave without an explanation.

At that moment, I wanted to pour out all these thoughts so he could know exactly how not-okay I was. Instead, I just nodded, looking at my hands. "Yeah, I'm okay. But could you please take me to Ella? I can't go home tonight. I don't want them to see me."

Jared paused for a second, then blurted out, "Come to my house."

I gave him a wide-eyed, alert glance. "What?"

"My house," he said. "Nobody's home, anyway. My parents are out of town and Bree is at her friend's. You can take a shower and catch some sleep."

I hesitated. I didn't want to go to Ella's house, and I didn't even know if I'd have been welcome there. And Jared was offering me a warm bed and his company, both of which were sounding more and more appealing as the night got colder.

"I…um…I guess if that's okay, I could…"

"Of course it's okay," Jared said, as if it ridiculous of me to question it. I got the feeling that he was afraid I'd change my mind.

I took a step toward the sidewalk and stumbled. Jared wrapped a steady arm around my waist and carried most (or all—I couldn't really tell) of my weight while we made our way to a gray car I knew wasn't his.

He held open the door for me and I peered inside dubiously.

"Whose car is this?"

"Paul's. He won't mind if we take it."

"How will he get home?" I asked hesitantly.

"I'm sure he can get a friend to take him," Jared shrugged. "He has a lot of those."

Nodding, I slipped into the car, taking a look around at the comfortable, black leather interior and the shiny wooden dashboard. It was surprisingly clean, devoid of any food packaging, and smelled like new car.

"You wouldn't think it, but Paul's kind of a neat freak," Jared told me, noticing my surprise. "He won't let anyone eat in here."

I snorted in a very unladylike way, and Jared laughed.

We were silent for the rest of the ride. I tried to compile my thoughts into something comprehendible, but it proved harder than usual, so instead, I concentrated on not puking in Paul's clean car.

I usually didn't get sick from drinking, but tonight the urge to vomit was pretty strong.

When we pulled up to Jared's house, I glanced anxiously over my shoulder, making sure Penelope or Chris didn't see me from across the way.

Jared unlocked the door swiftly, letting me inside. I'd never seen the interior of his house before—though our mother's had been friendly, they had always seemed to congregate at Paul's house. It was extremely clean and tidy, but there was an undeniable lived-in air about the place. The warm beige walls adorned with paintings, worn leather sofa with several maroon throw pillows haphazardly placed on it, and plenty of photos made the entrance room that led to the kitchen seem like a place a family lived. I couldn't, for the life of me, explain what it was about the place, but it felt a thousand times more like home than Chris and Penelope's house.

"My sisters and I have rooms up here, and my parents have theirs downstairs," he explained, leading me up the stairs as I examined a row of photos along the wall.

Jared had three sisters—Anna, Helena, and Brea, all so beautiful and friendly that there was no choice but to envy them. Helena was married and lived in Seattle with a family of her own, Anna went to college down in California, and Brea was an eighth grader at the local middle school.

Wryly, I wondered if that was the reason so many girls adored him. With three sisters growing up, who wouldn't be a gentleman?

"Do you want to take a shower?" he asked on the landing. Without hesitation, I nodded, too exhausted and drunk to be polite.

"Is there any chance you could—uh—lend me some clothes?" I was reluctant to ask so rudely, but the prospect of changing out of my sticky jeans and sweaty sweater was too irresistible.

"Of course," he nodded right away. "Here, take this bathroom, and I'll go get you some of Bree's clothes."

"Thank you," I told him sincerely, and stumbled my way into the cool, blue-tiled room. When he returned to hand me the clothes, I met his gaze as I began to close the door. "It's okay, you know," I told him. "The not noticing me thing. I don't blame you. Not really. You had a lot of pretty girls keeping your attention."

His face went blank, and before he could compose it and think of a reply, I snapped the door shut and fell back against it, letting out a long sigh. Forgetting that I wasn't religious, I thanked the good Lord in Heaven for this drunken courage, praying that, by morning, I would forget everything I'd ever said to Jared Cameron.

I took a very quick shower, using some delicious-smelling orange soap. The citrusy scent, along with the high-pressured, burning water, woke me up like a double-shot espresso. My head slowly began to clear, and by the time I stepped out I didn't feel nearly as drunk as before. This was more of a comfortably tipsy, the usual light feeling I craved every time I drank. It felt like nothing could go wrong. Like nothing mattered.

I avoided looking in the mirror while I changed, afraid I'd be forced to lock myself in the bathroom forever upon witnessing my appearance. The flannel pants and T-shirt were comfortably baggy, perfect for sleeping in, but not so perfect for looking sexy in. Of course, after seeing my drunken performance at the party, I was sure Jared could never think of me that way.

Groaning, I pushed open the door, hoping I could just crash on the couch for the night without bothering him anymore. I could only imagine that he was beyond annoyed with me.

As the door swung open, I found myself face-to-face with a navy blue wall that, upon further examination, I discovered to be Jared's chest.

Letting out an audible gasp, my hand flew to my throat in surprise. Instinctively, I looked up at his face. A second passed as his deep, warm eyes found mine, and then Jared's hands were at my waist, his mouth covering mine. There was no more speaking, no more thinking, only raw instinct that guided me into the kiss.

Of their own accord, my hands tangled themselves in Jared's hair, trying to drag his face down to my height. As it was, I was on my tiptoes and craning my neck. Jared's arms gripped tighter at my back, pulling me up toward him, until our bodies were pressed firmly into each other, leaving no space in between. He caught my lower lip between his and gently sucked, and I could feel my thudding heart resonate on his hard chest.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed—a minute, or an hour, or an entire day—while I stood there kissing the only boy I'd ever wanted to kiss. Jared's mouth eventually grew gentle, less demanding, and he lifted me clear off the ground. Out of pure instinct or from mimicking the movies—I wasn't sure which—I wrapped my legs around Jared's waist, enjoying the sensation of being held so securely. Jared groaned and began to guide me clumsily into his room, his mouth dragging along my neck and cheeks.

It was hard to imagine that the rest of the world went on while we kissed. I was surprised that the Earth didn't tip off its axis and send itself rolling away into infinity. In that moment, it felt as if we were the only ones in the entire world. All that existed was Jared holding me, inside his room, surrounded by dark walls and his irresistible smell. He placed me on his big, soft bed—the one I had seen so many times from my attic window—and kissed me and kissed me and kissed me.

"Is this okay?" he asked at odd intervals, pausing to look at me with heavy-lidded eyes. Each time, I contemplated saying no, if only to catch a glimpse of his reaction. But instead, I nodded and drew his head back down to mine.

There was so much mingled into his expression when he looked at me—lust, hesitation, admiration, and something else that I couldn't pinpoint.

_Kimmy, he's probably just tired. You're overanalyzing. Not to mention wasting time._

When I felt myself wanting more, I tentatively ran the tip of my tongue along his upper lip, then slid it into his parted mouth. His breath hitched, and he let me explore him before tangling his tongue with mine.

I wondered if this made me easy, maybe even slutty, and then a thought emerged. Maybe this was what Jared wanted from me—maybe, in this looking-glass universe, he found himself magically attracted to my plain looks, and wanted to be hook-up buddies. Having never had a hook-up buddy, I wasn't aware of the protocol.

Deep down, I knew that I could never allow myself to have that kind of relationship with him. As much as I wished I could be like Courtney Loquato, I could never have been so cool, so detached. I remembered Tia's emotionless face that day in Psych class, then thought of her determination in kissing the stranger at the party. All she'd felt for him was a summer crush, and yet it was evident how deeply his indifference had cut into her. I had loved Jared for too long—it would only crush me.

Still, I let myself enjoy his attentions now, knowing that I would remember this night forever. And I deserved it. I deserved this single night of perfection, even if I did regret it in the morning. I understood myself well enough to know that I would.

My hands crept under his shirt and I ran them over his hard stomach, marveling at the rippling contours of his chest and torso. He shuddered when I touched him, and the tips of my fingers burned like they held magical powers. Eventually, I pulled his shirt away, but when I got to the buckle of his jeans, he gasped, pulling back.

"No, wait, wait, Kim…" he said, struggling for breath. I froze, then pushed myself away from him.

"What?" I breathed, panic starting to set in. "You don't want to…?"

"No, I—I do but…d…do you? You're drunk. You don't even like me. I can't…I won't take advantage of you like this.

That was enough to make me straighten up and turn bright red. I adjusted my shirt with all the dignity I could muster and said meekly, "You're right. Of course we shouldn't. That was stupid. Sorry."

Jared looked like he wanted to laugh, though I didn't see anything remotely funny about the situation.

"Is there a couch I can sleep on? Or, if you'll lend me a few pillows, I can crash on the floor."

Immediately his smile faded. "What? I'm not making you sleep on the floor," he said, sounding offended. "You take the bed, and I'll take the floor."

I tried to object, but he obviously wasn't budging, and I didn't have it in me to argue with him. I couldn't look at him. I didn't want to look at anything.

So, awkwardly, I settled into his bed, and silently, he turned off the lights. In the darkness, I shut my eyes tightly against the embarrassment of rejection that was beginning to set in.

That night I fell asleep with my head buried in a pillow that smelled like Jared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, I want to say a HUGE thanks for keeping up with the story. This chapter in particular was a lot of fun to write, and I guess it's a sort of reward for getting through the recent angst. I do apologize for all the grammar mistakes and typos in the first versions of each chapter—I get really excited about sharing that I don't edit carefully enough.  
> Anyway, I'm going to try and keep up this frequent updating pattern for the rest of this week, but once school starts again, I can sadly make no promises.
> 
> P.S. I mean absolutely no offense to the fantastic people of Wyoming. Y'all are so friendly and hospitable, there are super cute rabbit-eared antelope running around, and you guys brew amazing beer, but I really had to pick a sparsely-populated state and you were the first one I could think of.


	10. Chapter 10

I didn't know if standing outside the door of the bathroom where Kim was showering was an inherently creepy thing to do. Granted, I was looking up at my ceiling, not trying to get a peek or anything, but still. It felt a little unnatural.

The words she'd thrown at me before closing the door still hung in front of me, waiting for me to claim them, though I desperately wanted to deny them.

_"You had a lot of pretty girls keeping your attention."_

It was true. I liked girls. A lot. And I liked sex. What teenage boy didn't? And, because a lot of girls seemed to like me, too, there had been nothing stopping me from getting with all of them. I was just fun for me. And knowing that I'd given a girl exactly what she'd wanted? That made me feel on top of the world.

All of that had changed the second I'd imprinted on Kim, though. Now, it was like all the desire and energy I could ever feel was channeled and fixated on her. I thought about her in every aspect of my life—when I ate, I wondered what she liked to eat, when I did Physics homework, I wondered if she was having trouble on the same problems I was, and every free moment I had, I wondered what she was doing—but it was when I thought about how attracted to her I was that I would go pretty much insane.

Kim was the most beautiful person on the planet, with her perpetually curved, inviting lips, almond eyes, and soft, flowing body. Every time she made her "oh, is that so?" face—the one with the single, perfectly raised eyebrow and slightly curved corners of the mouth—my heart would skip a beat.

It would have been funny if her groundless insecurities weren't so obvious. Why couldn't she see that all the so-called "pretty girls" I'd ever given any attention to were a vague blur in comparison to the way she shined? Really, truly, I had been the world's biggest jerk. Why hadn't I always seen her for the angel she was?

That was the state I had been in—staring at my ceiling and contemplating my douchebaggary—when the bathroom door suddenly opened and Kim walked right into my chest.

And so, I had absolutely zero preparation for her miraculous scent, which immediately engulfed me, or for her perfect, bourbon eyes when, without warning, she looked up and they locked with mine.

_Is it possible to get drunk just from looking into someone's eyes?_

I knew I shouldn't have kissed her. I knew that she was drunk, and probably couldn't have made rational decisions. I knew I shouldn't have taken advantage of the situation, but in that moment I really, truly lost any self-control I'd ever had.

If there had been any doubt in my mind of Kim's absolute perfection, it was permanently expelled mind as soon as my lips met hers. Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of pure bliss at being able to touch her freely. It was like every move she made was perfectly choreographed to drive me crazy, and after the first minute, I began to wonder how I could ever go back to my normal life. How could I look at her in English class and not remember how perfect kissing her was? How could I patrol and concentrate on tracking bloodsuckers when I could be thinking about this instead? If given the option, I could have spent the rest of my life just standing there and kissing her.

When she'd begun to initiate more, I almost completely lost myself. I knew that if that was what she wanted— _really_  wanted—I would never leave the bed again. Since I'd imprinted on her, I had thought about it countless times—so many times, in fact, that I felt a little guilty about it. It felt like I was violating her, even though it was just in my head, but it was impossible for me to stop my imagination. I almost burst into a fit of ironic laughter when she'd apologized to me.

_I can't believe I'm letting her apologize for almost giving me what I want most in the world._

Of course, reasonably, I knew it wasn't sex that I wanted more than anything. No, I wanted Kim to be happy, to be the happiest person in the world, and I'd do whatever was needed make it happen.

I glanced at her now, asleep in my bed, the most innocent picture I'd ever seen. True to the nature of the psycho-stalker I had turned into these couple of weeks, I decided that I loved watching her sleep. She looked like a little girl with her hair splayed out on my pillow, and her fists clutching the sheets tightly. Every once in a while, she emitted the softest snore and fidgeted a little, making my heart inflate to the point of pain. I was thrilled to have her in my bed, not only out of my selfish desire for her, but because I knew I could protect her here.

I worried about her constantly now, a cruel twist of fate, considering she had decided to cut me out of her life completely. It was a decision I couldn't fault her for. I definitely deserved it. I had been the biggest asshat to her— _her,_ of  _all_  people, the one girl who deserved my attention the most.

Sam had it so good—Emily checked in with him constantly, letting him know when she arrived somewhere so that he wouldn't go mad with concern. I didn't even have Kim's phone number.

Once, after a particularly long night of patrolling, Paul had confronted me with a list of annoying things I now did as a result of my craziness. This included worrying too much, which was absolutely true, but impossible to remedy. I worried about her well-being and her health, and I worried about her getting into a car accident, and I worried about every guy she graced with her presence.

I didn't even know if she'd ever been kissed before this. She didn't strike me as the type of girl who had a lot of experience, but then again, I  _had_  been wrong about her being shy. I tried to believe that I was right about this. I preferred it that way. I didn't want to think about another guy kissing Kim; that made me want to go insane.

There were rumors, of course, about her relationship with Robert Williams more than a year ago, and I knew there was something behind it. But Rob lied about girls all the time –I didn't let myself dwell on it.

And surely, surely,  _surely_  she was a virgin. I ignored the nagging part of my brain that wondered what virgin would be so willing to have sex with a guy she didn't even like. She was just drunk. It would have physically killed me to know that she'd been with someone that way, even if it had happened a long time ago. It wasn't fair of me to wish that she had no experience, I knew—aside from the fact that I'd lost my virginity at thirteen to a camp counselor, she was a free person who had the right to do whatever she wanted without comment from anyone—but I couldn't help that the thought of her with another man stabbed me in the gut. If only I'd noticed her sooner. We could have been friends, maybe even in a relationship, and this whole thing could have played out a lot more smoothly.

As I watched Kim from a chair near the bed, I caught wind of a new scent in the house. This was clearly Paul.

He gave my door a couple of soft taps, and quietly, I told him to come in. He ducked his head in through the doorway and took in the scene: Kim sleeping soundly and me creepily watching her. He smirked.

"So, you finally got her," he said.

I scoffed. "In my dreams," I sighed. "Nah, we just kissed for a bit. Not long enough."

"That's it, huh? Well, that's good. It wouldn't have been right."

Our voices, though loud enough for us to hear, would probably not be loud enough for Kim to catch even if she was awake.

"I got her friend Ella home," Paul told me, and I nodded in thanks. "They were pretty wasted, man."

"I know. She wanted to go further that just kiss. She wouldn't do that if she was thinking clearly, right?" I turned to Paul with an almost pleading look. I needed  _someone_  to back me up on my theory.

"Wow," he smirked, "since when does Jared the Ladies Man have self-esteem issues about sex?"

I punched him in the arm, and he rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean. No virgin would do that sober, right? She doesn't even like me."

"Man, what is this, the '50? If she wants to lose her virginity to a rando, that's her right."

"Hey! I'm not a rando! We're friends." Paul have me mad side eye.

"You said yourself that she doesn't like you." It was my turn to roll my eyes, but I knew it was true. I really was some rando who just decided to make myself a part of her life.

 _And yeah, Paul's got the right idea. Don't make assumptions about her virginity. She can do what she wants._ It still felt good to know that Paul thought she was a virgin too, though.

"Underneath her quiet girl façade, Kim's kind of a free-spirit," he said wisely, "so don't make yourself crazy with all the guessing. And I don't wanna get all mushy here, but I really think she needs you, even if she's not going to admit it. So…don't fuck this up."

Having been in Paul's thoughts, I knew that he felt an odd sense of responsibility for Kim. It bothered me; I didn't like him encroaching on my job description. But Paul had known Kim's mom—and had had a huge adolescent crush on Kim's mom, as a matter of fact – and had been there at the funeral of both of her parents. His memories of that day still haunted him, and now they haunted me.

"Her family really fucking sucks," Paul continued. "I talked to Ella in the car, and according to her, Kim's life at home is kinda miserable. Her brother is a douche, and her sister-in-law has a major stick up her ass. And they've got those two kids in the house. She's not…well, Ella thinks that she's never really had someone to care for her."

I looked at my hands, feeling like the biggest scum of the earth for the umpteenth time that week. I knew Paul was trying to help, trying to help me piece together the mystery that was Kim, but at the moment he was failing quite miserably.

"So just, you know, take good care of her," Paul said awkwardly, beginning to get uncomfortable with this emotional talk. "You're a great guy, and she deserves someone like that in her life."

"Thanks, Paul," I said, meaning it. Paul's personality never failed to impress me—he could go from being the suave, devil-may-care ladies man to a sensitive listener and caring friend in under two seconds.

"And I can cover your shift tonight," he offered. "You probably want to enjoy this while it lasts."

I smiled halfheartedly and thanked him again as he left.

_Right. While this lasts._

I spent the rest of the night trying to predict Kim's reaction when she woke up in the morning, and when I grew tired of that, trying to think of ways I could atone for sixteen years of being an asshole.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately/Unfortunately, I am not a teenage boy. I can only guess at how the voice of a heterosexual 16-year-old guy living in the early 2000's sounds in his head. Therefore, I'm super unsure about this chapter, and I don't know if it should even be its own chapter at all. Maybe I should cut it and add it in to the next one. I don't know.
> 
> This entire story, (awesome librarian aside), also feels really heteronormative, which makes me kind of sad and a little uncomfortable, but I don't know if I have the authority or imagination to write about a homosexual relationship. So many uncertainties.
> 
> I will say this though: magical wolfy stuff aside, if I could read thoughts and saw that this was what went on in a boy's head, I'd probably ask him to marry me right then.


	11. Chapter 11

The year Sophie was born, my mother had become addicted to vanilla-cinnamon-scented candles. Maybe it was thing same as a food craving that pregnant women got, only in smells, so the craving was endless because you could never fill up on scent. She'd light them all over the house, until it got so bad that every time someone left, they felt like they were coated in a thin sheet of cookies. Whenever I think of the day that my parents brought Sophie back from the hospital, I can't remember what anyone said or how they looked, but I remember it smelled like a bakery.

Smell, they say, is the sense most associated with memory.

On the shelf that stood at the back of my desk, behind two stuffed wolves that my grandparents had given me years ago, I kept my mom's half-used bottle of perfume. The dark, label-less bottle smelled like clementine and juniper berry rubbed in apple pie spice. Something about it was sparkly like she was, kind of like ginger ale. I'd never told anyone that I had taken her perfume—the thought of losing the bottle terrified me, because I knew that if I did, I wouldn't ever find her smell again. I couldn't stand that, so the bottle always remained hidden. On days so grey that day blended seamlessly into night and you couldn't tell afternoon apart from bedtime by looking at the sky, I would spritz a little onto an old t-shirt and put it on, imagining that she was sitting just a few feet away.

* * *

Scent was important to me, and probably more influential on me than on most others. As if there was a direct pathway between my nose and whatever part of my brain made me feel emotions, I associated the way I felt about people with the way they smelled. It was a given, then, that Jared had always smelled good.

Of course he did, but he didn't have a scent that I could single out or place my finger on. There was no other scent like it in the world, and I could only define it as fresh pine mixed with cedar and moss and lemons and cinnamon and a thousand other things. It was the smell of our Pacific Northwest forests after a spring rain, the damp wood mixed with fresh flowers and clean air, sprinkled with a gust of ocean air. It was the smell when you walked into a cedar cabin surrounded by snow, with a pie baking and a wood-fire crackling and all you wanted to do was snuggle in it and breathe everything in forever.

It was my favorite scent, and it didn't even have a name.

* * *

Waking up in Jared Cameron's bed, surrounded by his irresistible smell, was not something I'd ever dreamed of doing. Actually, that wasn't true. I was certain that, at some time in my life, it had been a very vivid, very treasured dream of mine, but it had been buried away with all the other things I'd wished I could do with Jared.

I was awake before I opened my eyes, and as there was no noise in the room save for Jared's slow, even breathing. I assumed he was still asleep. A flush crept up to my cheeks, spreading to my ears and throat until suddenly I was burning all over, and I couldn't think about anything but getting away. I couldn't face Jared, not after the kiss. Not so soon, anyway.

I sat up in the bed, but the effects of my slightly over-the-top alcohol binge caught up with me. I fell back into the pillows, a little shocked to find that my head was throbbing and faint stars were passing in front of my eyes.  _Oh. Well. This is unfortunate, isn't it, Kimmy?_

I thought I'd known what being hung-over felt like, but nothing in my life compared to the unique pressure now building behind my forehead. It was as if I'd spent the last week banging it continuously into a wall. It took me several minutes to collect myself and climb out of the bed, but even then, my legs were so weak that it was a challenge. Quickly, I devised a plan. I would change in Jared's bathroom, run home, and sneak into bed before Penelope woke up. I'd have the day to wash the clothes Jared had lent me, and return them tonight. Hopefully I could be quiet enough to keep Jared from waking up, and then I would have all day to mentally prepare myself before seeing him in the evening.

Just as I was making my silent break for it, though, I heard a groggy voice behind me, "Kim? Where are you going?"

I froze, my hand on the doorknob, and closed my eyes in horror. Deciding that making a run for it would only make an awkward situation more awkward, I turned around slowly and faked a smile that might have been more of a grimace.

"Isn't this how Walks of Shame are done?" I asked with a high, shaky laugh.

Despite having just woken up, Jared looked good. His hair was short enough that it was barely tousled, and when he propped himself up on his elbow, smiling at my attempt at humor, he looked like he belonged in a Ralph Lauren Sleepwear catalogue.

"I'm not too familiar with the process," he admitted, standing up in one fluid motion. "But you hardly did anything that constitutes a Walk of Shame."

"Right," I laughed again. "Because getting piss drunk and making a fool of myself in front of a guy I hardly know isn't at all shameful."

"I've seen worse. I've done worse, actually," Jared assured me.

We smiled at each other for a long moment and then, as if on cue, both our smiles faded. We both started to speak, then both snapped our mouths shut.

"Look, I – "

"Kim, I'm – "

I motioned for Jared to go first, and the words seemed to explode from his mouth. They sounded like he'd rehearsed them. "Kim, I'm really sorry about last night. That was really messed up of me. I took advantage of you, and I'm really, really sorry, and—"

"Jared, you didn't take advantage of me," I cut him off. "Don't worry about it. It was something that shouldn't have happened and it won't ever happen again, so we can both just forget about it. And I'm really sorry that you had to sleep on the floor," I tacked on as an afterthought.

He looked, quite honestly, devastated. I tried to think of what I'd said to make him look like that, and decided that maybe he just enjoyed playing the tortured hero. In my opinion, I was being very reasonable, very cool and detached from the situation. I was playing at being Courtney Loquato, not Tia Summers. I would not allow myself to admit how vulnerable I was.

"I mean, I'm not going to blame you for something that I actively participated in, you know?" I rambled on, trying to explain myself further. "It was as much my fault as yours."

Then, feeling a little bad about the way Tia had been last night, I added, "And I won't tell anyone, promise. I know you're kind of with Tia and I don't know if you're going through a rough patch or something but I don't want to come between—"

"I'm not with Tia," Jared said immediately. "We're not…there's nothing to come between. I'm not with anybody. And…I really like you, Kim. I didn't kiss you for the sake of kissing someone. I wanted to kiss you. I've wanted to kiss you for a while now."

My entire body seemed to deflate as I let out a shocked breath. "What?"

He seemed a little confused. "What?"

"You… _wanted_  to kiss me?" My voice sounded like a little girl's.

"Yeah," he said, moving closer while examining my face. He was suddenly right in front of me, towering over me without trying. I felt tiny, and it was like his presence was weighing down my chest, making it heard to breathe. "Last night, I wanted to kiss you so bad that I couldn't help myself anymore."

My knees went weak. The way he'd said that, plainly and simply, made me believe his every word against my better judgment.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he continued. "You drive me crazy."

As someone who'd never driven anyone crazy before, I was skeptical. Jared Cameron could have had any girl he wanted on a silver platter—and by all appearances, up until that point he did on a regular basis—and I was, quite objectively, not as attractive as most of the girls he'd been with. I couldn't help but mentally compare myself to them, and no matter what way I looked at it, I came up embarrassingly short.

"You don't really mean that," I accused softly. What I really wanted to do was ask him why, but it was hard to think straight when he stared at me with his silver-ringed brown eyes.

"Yes, I do. You're the most fascinating girl I've ever met," he said, leaning in, so that he was inches away from my face.

I couldn't help it. I grabbed his face and pulled it down to mine, pushing my lips against his as hard as I could. He responded like I'd hoped, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me close.

_Kimberly Connweller, what on Earth do you think you're doing? You're not drunk anymore. You have no excuse to get caught up in your emotions! You know it'll only hurt more later, and you'll be the only one dealing with it, just like always._

I planted my hands on his shoulders and pushed against him. At first he gave no sign of noticing, but soon felt that I had stopped moving my lips against his, and pulled slightly away.

"I can't do this," I choked out, trying in vain to untangle myself from him. He released my waist slowly. "I…I'm sorry."

I hastily grabbed my things while looking anywhere but at Jared. He blocked the door unintentionally, and as I asked to get by I added, "I'll return the clothes later. I really have to go."

He didn't move at first, confusion taking over his face, and I felt tears stinging my eyes. "Please, Jared. Let me leave."

Finally, as if finally processing my intentions, he stepped out of the way. I could tell that he wanted to follow me, but he didn't. I ran all the way down the stairs, out his door and into our unlocked garage before I took a single breath. I leaned against my ladder then, chest heaving, ready either to collapse or cry, I didn't know which. Maybe it was both.

It was a few minutes before I could catch my breath, and a few more before I dared to take a deep breath for fear that I would break out in sobs. I couldn't even define what exactly about our interactions that morning made me want to cry the most. I just knew that how good it felt to kiss Jared only made everything hurt more.

Finally, I slung my bag over my shoulder and climbed up to my room.

* * *

I spent nearly the entire day in bed, pretending to study for the History test I had coming up on Monday. The hangover was persistent, and my body was taking its sweet time getting revenge on me for making it process so much alcohol the night before.

Before dinner, I finally emerged from my hibernation. I came downstairs, nibbled on a few blueberries, then wandered into Sophie's bedroom to see if she was doing homework and wanted help. Sophie's room was supposed to be the guest room, and Penny hadn't gotten around to changing it. The walls were a deep maroon with wood panels and hardwood flooring. Sophie's princess comforter, canopy, and Crayon-colored desk didn't look right the way they did at our old house. My mom had finally agreed to let Sophie redo her room just before the accident, and Sophie had chosen pale pink for the walls. We had even take a trip to the Ikea in Seattle to purchase a huge Eiffel Tower picture that her new room was too small for.

"It was Parents Appreciation Week last week. Did you know that?" Sophie asked me. I was sitting with my hands underneath by bottom on her bed, and she was pulling out papers from a folder at the desk.

I wrinkled my nose a little. Aside from the obvious reasons for my distaste, objectively, I couldn't see how this Parents Appreciation Week served any educational value. Weren't kids supposed to be in school to be literate and learn to do long division? I never had an appreciation week for anything when I was in the fourth grade.

"I didn't," I replied.

"My teacher said that I could make a card for Penny or Chris or you," she continued, flipping through pages and pages to find what she was looking for. "She said she'd change my papers to say 'Sibling Appreciation Week,' but I told her that was stupid."

I raised my eyebrows, repressing a chuckle. "Oh? And what did she say to that?"

"She said I shouldn't use that word, and also that I could do whatever I wanted for the card." Sophie smiled big, flashing her newly grown front teeth. She had a good smile. In fact, she had a good everything else, too. Sophie had walked away with the majority of the looks in the family. Her hair was dark and thick, tumbling down her back in waves, and her eyes were big and light brown, like Dad's. She had a delicate nose and eyebrows that arched perfectly, and her mouth seemed too full for an nine-year-old, but would be very attractive one day.

"So what did you do?"

"I made one for Mommy, and one for Daddy," Sophie said. She motioned to two cards on her desk, one pink and one blue. "I worked really hard on them. Some kid next to me said it was stupid, but it's not." She said that with a confidence that made me smile.

Carefully, I picked up the cards, not wanting to bend the corners or damage them somehow. Sophie's handwriting was neat and big, and read  _I love you Mommy_! and  _I love you Daddy!_  in colorful ink. On the inside of each was a picture of them, drawn to surprising detail with wings coming out of their backs.

"These are really nice," I choked, putting them down as if they were suddenly burning. My heart ached; Sophie didn't and wouldn't for a long time understand the finality of death.

"I want to put it by them," she said proudly. "Will you take me?"

I hadn't been to the graveyard since the funeral, and until this point I'd had no plans of ever returning. They were dead. They were gone. I didn't really need some cement and inscriptions to remind me, thanks very much.

"Maybe one day," I said without much conviction. Then, because she looked so disappointed, I added, "Maybe we can go once it gets warm. You wouldn't want those cards to get snowed on." Her eyes lit up, and I let out a silent breath in relief.

* * *

Later that night, I took Sophie out to get hot fudge sundaes at a small shop on First Beach. I needed to do  _something_ before my mind wandered to places that it wasn't supposed to. La Push was not a big tourist trap, but it did have a small pier that attracted people from Forks and other surrounding cities. The pier overlooked a rocky piece of beach, and to the left the cliffs shot up into the sky, while huge waves lapped loudly into the terrain.

Like most days, it was cloudy and chilly out, and so Sophie and I had bundled up in our warmest sweaters and boots.

She talked the whole way there about school and her friends and anything else she could think of, and it was a relief. Sophie was the perfect distraction from Jared. She was like a much-needed breath of fresh air, and I resolved that from now on, I would spend more time with her. She deserved a sister. She deserved someone.

The beach was crowded, which made sense considering it was a Saturday night. I gripped Sophie's hand tightly. She did the same, and together we wove through the small throngs of people. I remembered a time years ago when I would have been humiliated to be seen with my younger sister on a Saturday night, but now, I couldn't have cared less.

The ice cream shop was at the front of the pier. It was actually a diner, though I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen someone actually eating there. The place didn't technically even have a name – unless you counted the sign that hung outside the window saying "DINER" in handwritten script – so it was affectionately referred to as The Spot. I wasn't positive, but the nickname probably had something to do with it being the only spot to hang out at in all of La Push.

The Spot was all outdoors except for the kitchen, which had once been a public bathroom. Orders were taken at the bar, which was really just a long piece of wood with awning over it. Tonight was a slow night—ice cream was not in high demand in forty-degree weather.

"Hey, Kim," Tanner Otis said from behind the bar. I hadn't known he worked there, but apparently he did, because he was wearing an apron and wiping down the counter.

"Oh…hey, Tanner," I said with my most awkward smile. Tanner had made no secret of his small crush on me; several times he'd come close to asking me out, but I'd always narrowly navigated myself out of those conversations.

"What can I get for you two?"

I stood silently while Sophie ordered her hot fudge sundae, and when he looked at me I just shook my head silently, making a pathetic negative sound in my throat.

"Alright, well, I'll be right out with that." Tanner smiled at Sophie before walking to the back, giving me a confused look before he turned around.

While we stood waiting, I bit my lip so hard I thought I hit blood. Sophie tugged on my jacket until I looked down at her.

"I think he likes you," she whispered to me, and I thanked the heavens that she'd grown out of that phase in which she'd shouted everything she said.

"Uh-uh. No. No, no, no," I said hurriedly. I sounded crazed.

"Yuh-huh, I think so," Sophie said, nodding confidently.

"Hate to break it to you, but you're off on this one, kiddo," I told her, tugging gently on a loose piece of her hair, making her giggle.

"I don't think you should go out with him anyway," she continued casually. "Because I've been thinking about it a lot, and I think you should go out with Jared, Kimmy."


	12. Chapter 12

Before I could answer, Tanner had come back with the sundae. Sophie's eyes lit up, and she took it eagerly, giving him a sweet grin.

"Thank you!" She dug in, completely forgetting our conversation.  _Thank God_

"Thanks, Tanner," I gave him a little grin and turned to go, hoping my body language made it clear that I didn't really want to stay and make small talk.

"Oh…sure. I guess I'll see you around then," he replied, his voice trailing up slightly at the end, like he wasn't sure if he was asking. I just pulled my lips back a little tighter, waved my fingers once as acknowledgment, and guided Sophie down the beach.

We walked in silence, Sophie engrossed in her dessert. When she finally remembered the world that existed beyond ice cream, she stopped and offered me a bite. It was delicious. Even before the spoon hit my mouth I could smell the nutty sweetness of the hot fudge, and the rich chill of the ice cream on my tongue felt so good I closed my eyes for a moment and hummed a short sigh. I hadn't had ice cream in so long that I'd forgotten how good it was.

It hadn't been on purpose, forgetting to eat ice cream. Penelope, always trying to "watch her figure," only bought snacks she deemed healthy, and I, never having had much of a sweet tooth, didn't actively seek it out, so I had basically forgotten about how much I enjoyed it.

"That's so good, Soph," I said, almost in a moan, "Can I have another bite?"

We looked around for an empty spot and settled into the sand, leaning against a stump of a log, side by side. For a few minutes we just sat and watched the scattered bonfires lighting lit up people's faces against the dark ocean. Sophie fed me another bite of her sundae, then laughed at me.

"Silly Kimmy," she said, "if you liked ice cream so much why didn't you just get one for yourself?"

"What? Don't want to share anymore?" She sighed theatrically, and I laughed. "Don't worry, I don't need anymore." A few bites really had done the job. Like I said, I didn't have much of a sweet tooth, so the first bites of sweets were always the best.

"You know, Kimmy, I bet Jared would share all of his ice cream with you if you went out with him." The laugh froze on my face. I looked down at her, trying to mold my face into the perfect expression of nonchalance with just a tint of incredulity.

"Look who's being silly now," I scoffed, keeping my voice light, "Jared doesn't like me. At least, not that way." Unconsciously, my fingers started to twist the hem of my shirt around them.

"Yes, he does," she replied, unfazed, "I saw him."

Trying to look sure of myself, I shook my head. "No, he really doesn't. And what do you mean you saw him?"

"The day I fell off my bike and almost died?"

"You mean when you scraped your knee," I rolled my eyes.

"Same thing. When we were all at Miss Emily's house, I saw him looking at you like he loved you." She had finished her sundae now, and was gently tapping the spoon against the plastic bowl as she spoke, concentrating.

I shook my head again, dismissive. "What are you even saying, Sophie? He wasn't looking—"

"Actually, it wasn't even like he loved you," she continued, ignoring me, "It was more like…you were the bestest thing in the world and he'd been looking everywhere for a really long time and finally found you. Kind of like if you didn't let me have ice cream for forever and then I finally got a sundae."

She looked up then and met my eyes. "So, you should go out with him."

For a moment I just stared at her. My mind couldn't come up with anything to say, and the rational character that lived at the base of my brain realized in horror that it was because the rest of me was dying to believe her. Begging me to believe her.

 _He_ had  _kissed me last night, hadn't he? And this morning? And didn't he say to me outright that he liked me? That I drove him crazy?_

 _But you don't believe that, Kimberly._ _The rational character in my brain rolled its eyes._ _Teenaged boys are strange. And unpredictable. But you can't seriously think he likes you. Not_ you.  _What could possibly attract him to you?_

"Jared doesn't think I'm ice cream," I finally replied with the only coherent response I could muster. "Come on, silly Sophie, let's go home. It's getting cold."

Sophie talked the whole way back home, but luckily didn't bring up Jared again. I wondered if I she could tell from my reaction that I didn't want to talk about him, but decided that a nine-year-old girl couldn't have that kind of tact.

Back at the house, I walked Sophie up to the door that led from the garage to the house and called in that I was going straight to my room. I certainly didn't feel like staying in the house to chat with Chris or Penelope, and didn't want to bother with taking my shoes off just to put them on again. I left my sandy shoes on the bottom tier of the shoe rack I kept by the ladder, and climbed up to my room in my socks.

I flicked the lights on and fell face-first onto my bed, exhausted again. Despite spending the day doing nothing, I didn't really have the mental energy to analyze how I felt about that morning, which seemed like a lifetime ago. And yet, all I could think about, with my cheek flush against the soft fabric of my comforter, was what it had felt like to wake up that morning in Jared's bed, his piney, tangy, fresh scent swirling around my head. I sighed, not daring to linger on that morning anymore, and pushed myself up, careful not to look out my window. I stepped out of my jeans and pulled my high-collared sweater over my head. Then I unhooked my bra, slipped off the straps, and pulled it out from under my tank top.

I could take my bra off without removing what I wore over it. That was my single party trick, if I ever had one. And if by party you meant the one I had every night, in my room, by myself.

_Or with Jared._

I blushed instinctively at the thought of taking my bra off with him in the room. Then frowned. Where had that popped in from? I shook my head and looked down to see the clothes I'd borrowed from him last night in a small pile next to my dresser. I picked them up, stared at them for a long, blank second, and dropped them into the hamper along with my sweater.  _By the time these get washed, I'll probably have had time to come up with how I'm going to face him when I return them_. Then I draped my bra and jeans over the back of my chair and opened my dresser to get my own flannel pajama pants.

My phone rang and buzzed just as I was tying the drawstring of my pants around my hips. I looked around, forgetting where I had tossed it that morning, and plucked it up from the inside corner of my desk. It was from an unknown number. I raised an eyebrow. I had expected it to be Ella, because after all, I didn't really have other friends I could reasonably expect to call me on a Saturday night.

"Hello?" I said into the phone, a little tentative.

"Hi," the man replied, Something small and sharp and hot caught in the back of my throat at the sound of his voice. "This is Kim's number, right?"

"Yes," I managed to say, half whispering.

"Hey, Kim. It's Jared."

* * *

I spent the entirety of Saturday moping. After Kim ran out of my room, looking like she was about to cry, I had stood for what seemed like a lifetime, debating with myself whether or not to follow her. Frankly, a very vulnerable, very raw corner of my being felt like crying too. She had told me to let her go. And I knew she was probably confused and a little upset about my kissing her last night. She didn't really have rosy feelings towards me, and the things I'd said to her before she kissed me probably sounded insincere and out of place to her.

But then, suddenly, I saw a glimmer of hope _. She_ had kissed _me!_ Granted, I had wanted her to, wanted it with all my heart, but she had initiated it! However, she had promptly changed her mind and ran, but that second when she pressed her lips hard against mine I could swear I felt that's she'd wanted it with all her heart too. Perhaps, just perhaps, the situation wasn't completely hopeless.

And then I remembered what I'd heard her tell Paul the other day at school. She couldn't deal with a relationship right now. She just wanted to be left alone. _She wasn't interested._

I was crushed again, and my body, mimicking my spirit, sat with a loud  _thud_ down onto my carpet. I stayed on my floor, wallowing in my hopelessness, until I knew I needed to leave for patrol. I'd already made Paul cover for me last night, so I felt very obliged to make it this morning. I wolfed down nearly half a loaf of bread with peanut butter and some frozen blueberries and headed out the door. While it was nice to have a quiet house first thing in the morning, not having the bacon and eggs my mom made for breakfast was definitely cruel and unusual punishment.

If I wasn't so late, I would have run over to Emily's, but I had left it until the absolute last minute to get up off my floor and didn't have time.

Not long after I phased, I became aware of Sam's consciousness running alongside mine. I was surprised. Usually we ran our patrol rounds alone, but Sam had wanted to check in with me.

I gladly accepted his invitation to "talk about my troubles". With record speed, unloaded onto him all of my worry, self-blame, and hopelessness from the previous night and that morning.

 _Basically, if you couldn't tell, I'm fucking this whole thing up. Majorly_ , I thought.  _And judging from the look on her face when she left, I don't think she'll ever want to see me again._

I felt Sam roll his eyes.

 _Jared, I know it seems hopeless now, but trust me. It could be a whole lot worse and still work itself out._ Right. How could I have forgotten? At least  _I_  wasn't engaged to Kim's cousin.

 _And it will work_ _out_ , Sam continued,  _because you're meant to be with her. You just have to keep trying at it from different angles. And don't think she's pushing you away only because of something you did wrong. From what I've heard, she's had a pretty tough few years. She probably has some open wounds she's trying to heal all by herself._

 _Wow, that was poetic,_  I replied with a smirk,  _I've never seen this literary side of you, Sam._

He scoffed.

I took a few moments of silence to digest what he had said. Sam's thinking was certainly reasonable, and it made me feel marginally more hopeful.

 _But she doesn't want anything to do with me,_ I thought _, and she told Paul she wasn't interested in being with me. I think it's pretty clear that that's what she wants right now. How am I supposed to do anything besides what she wants?_

 _The ironic thing is,_  Sam sighed,  _if it were any other girl, I'd say let her be. But since this is Kim, and you did imprint on her, you're going to keep trying to stay in her life, even if she tells you to leave._

_Yeah, I'm not exactly interested in what any other girl wants, Sam._

_Like I said. Ironic. Think of it this way. Your job is to be what she needs. Sometimes she doesn't know what that looks like._

_She doesn't know what she needs?_ _I asked._ _Isn't that, sort of, really patronizing?_

Another eye roll.

_I'm only saying she doesn't know that leaning on you is an option. Convince her that you're an option. That you can help her._

_Oh._  I paused _. Convince her that I'm an option, huh?_ I spent the rest of the run thinking over how to do this, how to show her that she could trust me. By the time patrol was over, I as feeling a little better and more in control. I wasn't done beating myself up for my douchbaggary just yet, but I was letting the hair shirt I'd forced myself to wear get just a bit less scratchy.

Paul joined Sam and me for lunch at Emily's, and the whole time, I was drafting the speech I was going to give her later. Before I left, I patted Sam's shoulder appreciatively.

"Thanks for the pep talk man," I said sincerely, "I really appreciate it."

He nodded. "Good luck, Jared."

I went home, thinking I'd take a quick shower then go see her. No such luck. My parents were back, and my dad was not pleased that that I hadn't cleaned out our chimney like he'd asked before they left. When that was done, my mom casually asked me if my sister and I had started homework. No. The answer was clearly no. As usual, she made us bring our work down and do it at the kitchen table.

It wasn't until after dinner that I got the chance to leave the house and run across the road to Kim's house. I pressed the doorbell and waited, suddenly very, very nervous.

Her sister-in-law Penelope opened the door. She was wearing a neat black dress and a very conspicuous strand of pearls around her neck. Right away I could see what Paul was saying about her having a stick up her ass. Who dresses like that on a Saturday?

"Hi, I'm Jared," I said, grinning, "I live—"

"Oh, from across the street, right?" I nodded. "You were here the other day. Here for Kim again?" I had almost forgotten that I'd come by a week ago, looking for Kim after school. That had been a pretty rough day when I couldn't find her.

"Yeah, is she home right now?"

"Yup, but you're going to have to go through the side door. Her room's in the attic and you can only get up there from the garage. " I stared at her, my mouth slightly ajar.

_What kind of family is this? They make Kim sleep in the attic?_

Before I could feel the anger start to bubble, she made a little yelping noise, like a poodle bark. I jumped a little even though I was staring right at her.

"Actually, I just remembered. She went out to get ice cream with her sister a half hour ago. Sorry about that."

My face fell. It must have been pretty noticeable, because she looked at me sympathetically and added, "You're welcome to come in and wait for her."

I thought about it for a second. I could go in and wait, but the vibes her sister-in-law gave off made me very fidgety.

"Thanks, but I think I'll just come back later," I said, my hand awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. I considered asking where she had gone to get ice cream, but stopped myself. Whatever I needed to say to her, she probably didn't want me saying it in front of her kid sister. I could wait.

As soon as Penelope closed the door though, it felt like ants had crawled into my t-shirt. Who was I kidding? I'd been waiting all day, and that was while keeping busy. I couldn't wait around doing nothing for who knows how long. I called Paul.

"Dude, you two have always been friends, right? Don't you have her number?"

"Jeez, Jared, chill. And no, I don't have her number. Why don't you just go down to the beach. They're probably just at The Spot. Not like there's anywhere else to get ice cream."

"But her sister's with her. I don't want to have this talk with her sister there, and if I start with small talk it'll make everything weird."

"So, what, you're planning to call her and ask…?"

"Yeah, just ask when she's getting back."

"Because that's not stalkerish."

I growled into the phone.

"Okay, okay!" Paul muttered, "I got her friend Ella's number last night. I'll call and ask for you."

"That's more like it."

A few minutes later he called back with Kim's number, but also a warning from Ella that Kim was very unreliable about answering her phone.

"Don't freak out if she doesn't pick up," he said, in a tone that was almost…soothing? "She probably just left it at home."

"Alright. Thanks man." Normally I would have asked how he maneuvered his way into getting Ella's number last night, but despite the warning I was impatient to call Kim.

With my luck, I should have known she wouldn't pick up. I tried six times.

Back in my room, I looked at her house through my window. Now that I knew she lived in the attic, I realized I could see her window very clearly from mine. I didn't know why this particular pass-time had never occurred to me before, but now seemed as good a time as any to start.

I sat there and stared, rehearsing my speech. Then, suddenly, I thought I saw two figures coming up the road in the dark. I leapt up and stuck my head out for a better look just in time to see them disappear into side door. A few moments passed, then the light in the attic switched on, and I saw Kim fall face first onto her bed.

Man, was she a sight for sore eyes! But she looked exhausted too, and for a second I just stared at her, unable to move my eyes away. Finally, I shook myself out of my trance, quickly pulled up her number on my phone, and dialed.

When I looked up from my phone again I nearly dropped it out the open window. She had stripped to her underwear and tank top, and as I watched, she bent over to get something out of her dresser.

 _Jesus, she has the most perfect ass._  I could feel a gush of blood rushing right out of my head and into my crotch, even as she was stepping into a pair of flannel pajamas.

The call was finally going through, and I saw her pick up her phone and answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi," I said, my voice coming out a little hoarse. Then, a little sheepishly, I asked, "This is Kim's number, right?"

There was a pause.

"Yes." Suddenly, her voice sounded hoarse too.

"Hey, Kim. It's Jared."

"Oh. Um…hi Jared. Uh…why…how did you…" She was stammering.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. I just really wanted to talk to you, so I asked Paul to ask Ella for your number."

"Oh.".

"Anyway. Do you mind if we talked for a bit? I could come over to your house if you want."

Another pause. She looked up.

I was not expecting the sudden eye contact we made, but managed a very large grin and an exaggerated wage in her direction. She gave me a little wave back.

"Don't you…don't you have plans?" she sounded hesitant, It _is_ Saturday night. Plus, I'm a little tired…"

"Kim, please." The desperation in my voice surprised me. "All I want to do is talk to you. And see you. Please, Kim, I can be quick about it."

"Okay," she agreed, a little reluctant, "Come in through the garage and up the ladder."

I was already out of my room and racing through the front door, not bothering with shoes. I sped across the road barefoot, suddenly exhilarated by the icy ground under my feet. In under a minute I was ducking in through her garage door, and when I saw her, I bounded up the ladder without even thinking and pulled her into my arms.

* * *

Jared's chest was very warm. An objective voice inside my head noted calmly that, if given the option, I would happily choose to stay in his embrace for the rest of my life, feeling his strong arms against my bare shoulders, breathing in his intoxicating scent, hearing his rapid, thudding heart. It took everything I had in me to finally move my arms and extricate myself. Somehow it seemed even harder than backing away from our kiss that morning, as if the day spent apart had added force to the pull I felt towards him.

"Hey," I breathed, and looked up into his warm eyes, which were burning as they stared back at me, as if he was afraid I'd disappear at any moment, and he wanted to remember every detail.

"Hey, yourself," he beamed. I motioned for him to come in. He stepped through the narrow doorway, still looking at me, and promptly slammed his head into a low-hanging rafter tie. It made contact with a loud, dull  _thud_ that made me wince alongside him.

"Ow," he muttered, then cursed under his breath.

"Oh my God, Jared!" I peered up at his forehead, which was definitely beginning to turn red. "Are you okay?" He nodded sheepishly.

"Nah, don't worry about it. Just a little bump."

"Sorry about the ceiling. Maybe you should sit down." He nodded again, and I offered him my desk chair. Very carefully, he moved towards it and sank in, then looked up.

"Jeez, it's like a booby trap in here," he said. "Good thing you're not tall."

I laughed a nervous laugh, but then felt a little indignant.  _Is he calling me short?_

"Wait, what? No, I'm tall. I'm almost 5'6".

"That makes me more than a foot taller than you," he smirked. "I'd say you're pretty not-tall."

I huffed and rolled my eyes. "No, I'm actually taller than average. You, on the other hand, are a freak of nature, so you don't count." Something about my words made him cringe. It was a tiny movement, really just a squint of his eye and a tugging of his mouth, but I caught it.

I frowned, and then neither of us said anything. Nervously, I rubbed my left thumb over the cuticle of my right index finger.

"So, Kim, what I—"

"Why don't I go get you an ice pack?" I interrupted.

"No, I'm alright—"

I was already heading back down the ladder. From a purely objective standpoint, I really didn't want Jared walking around with a conspicuous bump on his forehead. I could just imagine how conversations about that would have gone down.

_Jared, what happened to you?_

_Oh, I hit my head on Kim's ceiling._

_What were you doing at Kim's house?_

And that was the real reason I'd needed to leave. What  _was_  Jared doing at my house? Why had he come running across the road, barefoot no less, and why had he hugged me? Were we friends now? Were we more? What did he want to say?

And why did it feel  _so good_ to be with him?

There were so many uncertainties—I had too many questions—and yet all I wanted to do when I was near him now was touch him. I wanted his arms around me again, and I wanted to feel his burning skin under my hands. I wanted his delicious scent to surround me, and to bury myself in his chest.

I walked into the kitchen, unhappily chewing on my lip. I had thought Penelope would have gone to bed by then, or at least wouldn't still be cleaning, but was dismayed to see that she was standing in front of the sink, washing a Sippy cup. She looked up at me as I made a beeline for the fridge.

"Oh, you look like you're comfy," she said, eyeing my pajamas, then my hair. "Lazy night, huh?"  _This woman is literally the bane of my existence. No sane person can be made-up and perfect like you always are, Penny._  Still, I tried to comb my hair into something more presentable with my fingers.

"Um, yeah," I mumbled. "Where did you put those cold packs? I hit my elbow on my dresser," I lied, rummaging through the fridge. I was actually surprised that she hadn't heard Jared coming through the garage, because the door usually screamed at the slightest movement, but if she didn't bring up the other person in my room, I certainly wasn't going to offer any information. Penelope came over and plucked a blue and white pouch from the depths of the fridge with one quick, exact motion.

"Here you go," she said, handing me the cold, squishy bag. "Oh, and by the way, that Jared boy from across the street came looking for you again." She grinned at me before turning back her cleaning.

I blinked. "When Sophie and I were out?"

"Mhmm. He seemed really anxious to see you." There was a glint in her eye. "Have you two been spending time together?""

My instincts went into panic mode—fight or flight. I really would have left then, too, if I hadn't remembered that the aforementioned Jared had just run across the street and was probably thirsty. I took a deep breath and reached over to grab a glass and the pitcher. Internally, I said a prayer of thanks that I already had my own mug upstairs. I didn't need Penelope asking why I wanted two cups in my room.

"Um, sort of. We've been, uh, talking a bit in school," I shrugged.

"Oh, that's so great, just so great, Kim!" Penny gushed. "I'm so happy that you're getting more social. And Jared is so gorgeous."

I thought it was more than a little awkward for Penelope, a twenty-four-year-old wife and mother, to call Jared "so gorgeous", but instead of commenting, I blushed.

"Seriously, Kim," she said when I didn't answer, "This will be so good for you. Do you think he likes you? Are you guys kind of  _together_  now?" I cringed. Physically, mentally, and probably spiritually, I recoiled at the enthusiasm of her words.

 _No,_  I wanted to tell her,  _we can never be together. There's nothing going on._   _There can never be anything going on._ It was what I had been subconsciously chanting to myself all day. It seemed like the safest way to deal with the past 24 hours. However, even I couldn't tell a lie that outrageous, considering that the boy in question was sitting in my room late on a Saturday night. Alone. Instead, as I pushed open the kitchen door with my hip, hands full, I replied as nonchalantly as I could, "I don't know, Penny. We just started talking."

Back in the attic, Jared hadn't moved from the chair I'd put him in. He was examining my room with curious eyes, which lit up with attention when I came back in. I handed him the water. He thanked me.

Then I tried to give him the ice pack, but noticed that his forehead seemed completely normal. Curiously, I peered down at him. I could have sworn that his head was red when I'd gone downstairs. There should have been at least a small bump by now.

"Which, uh, which side of your head did you hit, again?" I asked a little hesitantly, holding the ice pack out like I didn't know what to do with it.

He took it out of my hand and laid it on my desk, grinning widely at me.

"Told you I was alright," he said casually. "I can barely feel it now. Thanks for the water, though."

Slowly, I nodded, and went to sit on my bed across from him. I tucked my legs up, looking anywhere but at his face.

"So, Jared. You came to my house earlier?

"Oh, yeah," he said, his hand moving behind his neck. "I wanted to see you,"

"Okay…" I looked at my hands. "Um…what…uh….why…"

"Kim, I like you a lot," he interrupted me. His words were slow, though, like he had planned them out and knew exactly what he wanted to say. My head shot up to look at him. Carefully, I studied his face, but he was just staring at me with a serious, determined gaze.

"I really,  _really_  like you. I know I probably said it this morning, but I don't want you to think that it was just some offhanded thing because of what happened last night. I really wanted to kiss you, but it was because I really like you. You're so smart, and I love your sense of humor, and the way you deal with what the world throws at you…just...wow. You're so strong, and so incredibly beautiful. Just…so incredible…and I…I just…really like you…"

He trailed off, looking so sincere that I had to believe him. In that moment, it was like something deep inside my psyche clicked, and I knew that I believed him out of pure instinct, if nothing else. I believed that Jared thought I was incredible.

And then my rational self checked in, but even it was unable to fully convince me that he wasn't serious on some level.  _You know he can't mean all that, Kimberly._

_Yeah, but even if he doesn't, the fact that he's saying this at all must mean something, right?_

"And I know this is out of the blue for you, I do," he continued earnestly. "But trust me. I was blind before, but as soon as I saw you in class last week, I  _knew_  you would be the most amazing girl. And you are. You always have been. I've just…suddenly seen the light, I guess," he laughed, half to himself, "and it's finally letting me see that you…are amazing."

I had nothing to say. What could I have said? His words didn't make sense, and yet they made perfect sense. Any question I could have asked him—Why me? Why now?—he had answered in his neatly-packaged little speech. I opened my mouth, but shut it again, silent.

He didn't say anymore, but just looked at me, studying my face as I studied his. We sat like that for a long moment, and it was as if the air was settling around us like a silent blanket.

"Why are you telling me this, Jared?" I finally whispered, afraid to breach the nearly magical calm that had set in.

"Because you deserve to know it," he whispered back.

And then he gave a low, nervous chuckle, and the silence was broken. "Andbecause I want you to go on a date with me. Why else do boys tell girls they like them?" he shrugged, a little cheeky.

"Please, Kim," he pleaded when I didn't answer. "Just…just one date. Let me make it up to you. And then, if you want, I'll be out of your hair. I'll never bother you again. But…just…give me a chance? Let me show you I'm serious."

 _I can_ not _believe you're going to let him convince you with just a few pretty words, Kimberly._ The rational character living in my head rolled its eyes with disapproval.

_No, I can't either, but you know me. I don't have it in me to deny him for long._

I smiled back then, because how could I not? How long had I dreamed about this moment? How long had I wished and prayed and  _willed_  that Jared Cameron would one day ask me out? No, I couldn't let reality get in the way of my dream playing out. Not today. That would have crushed me beyond repair.

_And what's going to happen when he leaves, huh? Because you know that's what happens with all the good things in your life. They leave, or they end, or they turn out to be awful. You know that._

_Oh, go to hell. Listening to you hasn't been making my life any better._

I was tired of trying to make all the rational choices, tired of pushing away my excitement that he was finally in my life. I  _had_  been rational, and the last two weeks had been miserable. In that moment, I didn't care if I got hurt from any of this. I was already hurting so much. It couldn't possibly get worse, right?

And so, I let the smile spread wider and wider until it touched my eyes. "Really?" I asked, though I already had the answer in his face. "You want to take me on a date?"

"I would love nothing more." He smiled back. He could read my answer too.

"Okay then," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And, just like that, I had a date with the boy I'd loved since I was nine. We made plans then. He would come pick me up tomorrow afternoon, and we would have dinner in Port Angeles, maybe see an early movie. The excited glint in Jared's eyes as he planned was unmistakable, and it stirred my own anticipation for the following day.

"Oh, and wear something warm, okay?" he said. He had taken my hands in his, very casually, and was now slowly running his thumb over the knuckle. His grip felt good—warm and safe—and my hands felt like they belonged there. "It's supposed to be so cold tomorrow that it won't even snow."

"That doesn't make any sense," I responded softly.

"Sure it does. When temperature decreases, the air's maximum capacity for water vapor decreases. Therefore, the colder it gets, the less water vapor the air can hold, and the less likely that precipitation will occur."

I blinked at him, then raised an eyebrow. I swore I saw him blush in response.

"We learned that in Chemistry last year. You don't remember?" He looked a little embarrassed now.

"I'm  _really_ bad at Chemistry," I said.

"You're probably not," he countered. "You were probably just focusing on Mr. Karb looking like a fish all class."

"Like a carp, you mean." And then, out of nowhere, a giggle escaped from my throat. Before I knew it, he had joined in, and for a few divine moments, Jared and I looked at each other and just laughed.

"So, lesson of this story is, dress warmly tomorrow," he said when we'd stopped. Then, still beaming, he added in a conspiratorial whisper, "Mr. Carp said so." We both burst out laughing again. It was intoxicating in the best way, as if I was drunk on ambrosia. I didn't want it to end.

Finally, when we'd pulled ourselves together, I yawned. I thought I saw a tiny crease appear between Jared's brows for a moment, but quickly, it was gone. We both stood up at the same time.

"I don't want to kick you out, but…"

"But you're kicking me out?" He finished my sentence, grinning. I yawned again in response, then smiled back apologetically.

"Sorry. I'm really tired."

"I can tell. You should go to bed. You'll want to be well-rested for tomorrow."

"I didn't know dinner and a movie were supposed to be taxing," I smirked, walking him to the door of my room.

"What can I say? I'm kind of a lot to handle." He stopped at the door of the attic and turned around to look at me, his expression losing all signs of banter. He took up my hands in his again, and the sudden contact gave me a little shiver down my neck.

"I'm really looking forward to tomorrow, Kim," he whispered.

"Me too," I replied. And then, letting my face grow serious, I looked straight into his eyes and said the one thing I'd been wanting to say since I'd agreed to this date.

"I really hope you meant what you said, Jared. I really hope you were serious." His smile faded, and he looked intently at my face.

"I am. I promise that I am. And just you wait. I won't disappoint you." Then, slowly, his eyes still fixed on mine, he brought my hand up to his mouth and, very gently, pressed his lips onto my fingers. My breath hitched, and I felt him smile in response. "See you soon." And then he was gone.

I stood at the top of the ladder for a long time, staring at the side door that Jared had closed behind him, trying to convince myself that what had just happened had all been real.

_You'll find out tomorrow, won't you? If all that he said was real?_

_I don't think one day's going to be enough for me to tell. If he isn't serious, how would I even know?_

_And if he is? How would you know? Would you believe it, Kimberly?_

I sighed a soft, shallow sigh. "I really hope you're not messing with me, Jared," I whispered into the darkness the second half of what I had wanted to say. "I don't think I could survive that."


	13. Chapter 13

On Sunday morning, I woke up well-rested, alert, and harboring very serious doubts about my decision from night before. Namely, the terrifying feeling that this date was really some sick joke was creeping up my spine and refusing to be ignored any longer. As much as I couldn't believe Jared would do something that awful, my world had been turned so thoroughly inside out in the past two weeks that I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

By the time I had gotten dressed, I was feeling so jittery and unsure about that afternoon that I almost called Jared with some excuse to cancel.

_My brother wants me home for dinner._

_I just realized I have a huge paper due tomorrow._

_I fell off my ladder._

_I burst an aneurism._

I decided then that, if I was going to navigate the confused ocean of my feelings, I was going to need an actual friend. Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up my cell phone and called Ella.

"Hey Kim!" She sounded cheerful, and a little surprised. "I've been meaning to call you! How are you doing? How was Friday night?"

I had forgotten how talkative and animated Ella always was. "I'm good," I couldn't help but smile into the phone. "It was good. I probably drank too much, but it was good."

"Just 'good', huh? Why don't you tell me how 'good' it was to go home with Jared, hm?"

"What?" I nearly choked on my own spit, and at once I felt hot blood rush to my face. "How did you know that?"

She laughed her contagious laugh. "Don't worry. No one knows but me and Paul. He drove me home and he told me where you were."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. He took me to his house because I didn't want Penny to see me so wasted."

"And…?"

"And…nothing. I showered in his sister's bathroom and crashed at his house." Choosing my words carefully, I neglected to tell her about our specific sleeping arrangements.

"Uh huh," she responded, clearly aware that there was more to this story, "And that's all you did? Shower and sleep?"

"Well…"

"Well? Kim, I know something happened, and you  _know_  you want to tell me!"

"Um…well, he may have, uh, kissed me." The shriek from the other end of the phone was so loud that I shrank back from the speaker to keep my eardrum intact.

"Oh my God, Kim! That's so fantastic! I  _knew_  he'd like you eventually. You've liked him for  _ages_  and—"

"Wait, wait, stop," I tried to cut her off, keeping my voice as calm as I could, though the teenage girl in me wanted to scream in excitement with her. "Who said anything about him liking me?"

"OMG, he totally likes you. He kissed you! What other indication do you need? And, like, did you see how he looked at you on Thursday? He's  _totally_ into you."

"That's, uh, the kissing was why I called you. I don't know what…um…I could use some help figuring out…uh…"

"Okay, yeah! So give me  _all_ the deets about Friday night," she giggled. "I'll be your love counselor and—"

"Wait. Hold on," I cut in, something she said catching my attention. "How was he looking at me on Thursday?" Snippets of what Sophie had told me at beach surfaced in my head.  _He looked like he loved you._

"Like the only thing he cared about was what came out of your mouth."  _Is that really how he looks at me? I'm not imagining it? But that doesn't make sense._  I could hear Ella's smile in her words. "And let's not forget. He  _literally_  kicked Rob's ass for you."

"Um…I mean, who knows why he did that..."

"Oh, come on. I think the whole school knows why. It was pretty obvious." I flushed.

"Uh…"

"Okay, okay, enough about Thursday. Tell me about Friday! I'm  _dying_  over here."

So, I told her. I didn't go into too much detail about us kissing, blaming the alcohol for making my memory hazy, even though, if there was one thing I remembered with crystal clarity for the rest of my life, it would have been that night. That first kiss. Recounting the events of that night out loud only made me realize just how much I wanted Jared to kiss me again.

"So, guys were kissing for a while, huh? Was there tongue?"

"Ella!"

"What? I'm supposed to be giving you advice! I need to know the details."

"Well…there may have been a little tongue."

"Eeee! This so exciting! Wait, but, that's it? All you did was kiss. Really?"

"Yes, really," I replied, biting my lip. I didn't think I wanted to tell her that I had tried to initiate more. I couldn't bear to think that he had rejected me. Then, I decided that, if Ella was going to help me analyze Jared's intentions, I may as well tell her.  _Having an actual friend again is good for you. Let's call this a first step to repairing your friendship._

"Actually…well, not  _all_. I mean…um…I took his shirt off—"

"OMG!" Again, I had to hold the phone away from my ear. "I  _knew_  there was more. Spill!"

"Well, nothing more actually, uh, happened. I just, um, well, I took his shirt off when we were in his bed, but when I tried go further, he wouldn't let me."

"What? Like, he wouldn't let you take anything else off?"

"Yeah, I don't know. I thought he wanted to be fuck buddies or something, but…uh…I guess he didn't want to go very far with me."

"Aw, but Kim! That's so sweet!"

"Huh? I just told you he rejected me, and you're saying it's sweet?"

"Well, you were pretty drunk, right? It would have been pretty messed up of him to have sex with a drunk girl."

"Okay, but I wasn't  _that_ —"

"He didn't know that. Kim, I told you. He's definitely into you. He just didn't want to take advantage of you, that's all. Isn't that so sweet of him? I'm sure he really wanted to have sex with you."

My eyebrow automatically shot up at the absurdity of her last sentence. The entire concept seemed foreign. I opened my mouth, but didn't know how to respond. I didn't know what to think, no matter how much I wanted to believe Ella's words. After a moment of silence, Ella asked,

"Would you, uh, would you have had sex with him though? Like, gone all the way if he had been into it? I don't want to pry or anything, but, uh, would it have been your first time…or…"

She trailed off, and again I felt my face flush. The pit of my stomach was beginning to twist into a very painful knot.

"Doesn't matter," I answered quickly. "Point is, we didn't do anything. I just ended up sleeping on his bed and he slept on the floor."

"Oh my God, Kim, how is this boy even more perfect than he seems from far away?"

"Huh?"

"He definitely cares about you! For goodness sake, he slept on his own  _floor_  so you could be comfortable. Kim, I'm like, low-key so jealous right now. I want someone to do that for me!"

"Yeah, I guess that was pretty nice of him."

"Exactly! I'm loving this. You guys should defs be together. Okay, so, what happened the next morning?"

I explained the events of Saturday, from my confused kiss and escape in the morning to his visit and our date plans from the night before. There was a lot of excited squealing from the other end of the phone, and I found my attempts at explaining my hesitation to be very weak indeed.

"Kimberly Connweller, I honestly don't know how that brain of yours functions. You've liked Jared since, like, forever. You know what? I can't even remember a time you didn't like him. And now you're saying you don't know if you should go out with him? Are you insane?"

_Yes. Yes, I believe I am insane. A normal person would literally be over the moon. But no. Not me. How much easier would everything be if I was?_

"I…I don't know. Don't you think it's weird that he suddenly started talking to me after not acknowledging me for years? What if he's, like, playing some sort of trick on me or something? Or, maybe, what if he just feels bad for me? Or…I just…"

"Kimmy. Sweetheart. Let me summarize the situation for you. This totally gorgeous boy has been super interested in you and  _punched_  someone who was mean to you. He let you crash at his house. He kissed you. He cared about you enough to not take advantage of you  _and_  he let you take over his bed. Then he  _literally_ told you he's into you.  _Multiple times_. And now he's asking you out. You really think sixteen-year-old boys go through all that trouble just to play a joke on someone?"

"I'm not a sixteen-year-old boy, am I?"

"Okay, fine, Neither am I. But still. Anyone can see that he cares about you. I don't know why you're hesitating."

"I just…I just don't want him to be…I just hope he's serious, you know? And…I can't just be with him like that for fun. What I feel for him…it's, uh…pretty serious."

We were silent for a few seconds as Ella thought about my words.

"I know, Kim," Ella finally answered, her voice distant. "We grew up together. You know I had a crush on a new boy every week, but you…no, it was always Jared for you. So, I know, Kim."

More silence.

"All the more reason for you to jump into this. You know he's a good guy. Go and have fun tonight. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it? If you feel for him that deeply, don't you owe it to yourself to give this the best chance it has?"

"Yeah. You're right," I whispered. Of course she was. I did owe this to myself. "You're right," I repeated, feeling the return of my resolve from last night, "Okay. Yeah. I'm doing this."

"Yay! And you  _must_  tell me how it goes. Like, right when you get home. Promise? None of this two days later stuff, okay?"

I laughed. Ella's enthusiasm was contagious. "I promise. Thanks, Ella."

"Of course, Kim! Now go get ready! And I'm so glad you called me. I'm so glad to have you back."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that she would never have the old Kim back.

* * *

I was trying to do that hair-curling trick Ella had done for me on Friday when Penelope walked into the bathroom. I had taken a bubble bath after lunch, and was still wearing a towel as I tried to remember how Ella had flipped the iron so I ended up with waves. It was stressing me out.

Jared was coming at 4 to pick me up, and here I was, hair not presentable, no makeup on, and not dressed, with only an hour left. Clearly, I needed all the time in the world to get ready today, and not having that time was making me grumpy. And stressed.

"Hey, you! Are you going out?" Penelope looked at me, a little shocked. To be fair, her surprise was completely legitimate, because my going out twice in a single weekend probably looked like some alien had taken over my body. Nonetheless, I was annoyed.

"Yup," I replied, popping the "p". She eyed my struggles with the iron.

"You're doing it wrong," she observed. Reaching over, she took the iron out of my hand before I could protest and proceeded to curl a section of hair into a perfect curl. I felt myself seething, but I had to admit defeat.

"Sit," she said, positioning herself behind me so we both peered at my reflection in the mirror, "I'll do the rest for you."

"Oh. Thanks, Penny." I saw her small grin as she set to work.

"So…what's the plan for tonight?" Penelope asked carefully, not looking up from my hair. "Are you hanging out with Ella? Or…someone else...?"

"Uh, yeah. Someone else."

She didn't respond, obviously waiting for me to continue. I, however, wasn't about to volunteer any information, so for a few moments we sat in silence as she worked.

"Is it Jared from across the street?" My face flushed. I could feel her looking at my reflection in the mirror now, so I kept my eyes trained on my fingers.

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh, Kim, that's wonderful! I knew he liked you! Oh, I can't wait for you to start dating! He'll be your first boyfriend, won't he?" My eyebrows shot up.

"Well, don't get carried away, Penny. We're just hanging out," I tried to roll my eyes and sound dismissive of such an idea, even as part of me was screaming  _yes yes yes! I can't wait until we start dating either!_

Then, though I hated even thinking about Robert Williams at the same time I thought about Jared, I said, "And besides. I've had a boyfriend before."

Something about the way Penelope had phrased the "first boyfriend" comment really bothered me. Even as I cringed at his name, I couldn't resist setting the record straight.

"Oh, really? Wow, Kim! There's so much I don't know about you! When was this?"  _Penny, keep this up and I really might punch you._ I dug my nails into my palm and stealthily took a deep breath.

"A long time ago. I was a kid, and it was stupid, you know?" I was regretting bringing this up now, and prayed that my explanation would put her off asking for details.

"Oh, of course. Because you're so elderly now," she said with a laugh.

"I prefer wise beyond my years," I replied, only half jokingly. She shook her head and laughed again, as if knowingly.  _Oh Penny,_  I rolled my eyes inwardly,  _you don't know the half of it._

* * *

Thanks to Penelope's help, I was perched on a dining room chair, twisting the edge of my turtleneck sweater around my finger, when the doorbell rang. I popped up from the chair and bolted to the door in a single motion, but caught myself before I could fling it open _._ My hand floating over the handle, I squared my shoulders, took a few deep breaths to settle the butterflies, and calmly and casually opening the door.

I saw Paul's face before I saw Jared next to him, wearing khakis, a collared shirt, and a very large smile. The two of them standing side by side completely blocked the light from my doorway.

For a second—an awful, eternal second—I froze. And I panicked. And the cold gushing in from the door was nothing compared to the chill at the pit of my stomach.  _This is some sort of joke they're playing on me. It has to be. Why else would they both be here? I'm really going to be sick…_

"Hey, Kim," I heard Jared's voice as he stepped forward and hugged me. Dazed and still panicked, I looked up at his face and saw a little frown appear at my expression.

"Is something wrong? You look worried."

_Okay, Kimberly. Pull yourself together. For the millionth time, you know Jared and Paul aren't like that._

I shook my head and blinked a few times, then lit my face up into a smile.

"No, nothing's wrong. I was just surprised to see Paul, that's all."

"Ah, so you were dazzled by my handsome face," Paul laughed, pulling me in for a hug too. "I was kind of hoping you wouldn't notice if I tagged along and made sure Jared didn't say anything stupid."

Jared punched him in the arm. I smiled again, genuinely this time.

"Actually, Paul's here to fix your car while we're out," Jared beamed, and I looked down to see the mechanics kit Paul held.

"What? Oh, you don't have to do that."

"No, he insists. Isn't that right, bud?" Jared asked, putting a friendly, (perhaps threatening), arm around Paul's shoulder and still smiling at me.

Paul flashed a toothy grin at me. "Of course. I insist. Show me the way."

Still a little stunned, I led the boys over to where Jared had left my car.

"Here it is," I gestured grandly and opened the door. "It broke down when I was driving home and wouldn't start again."

Paul patted my shoulder. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

I spent the next few minutes in the driver's seat, rubbing my hands together and occasionally turning the ignition, while Jared and Paul poked around under the hood.

"Yeah, you were right," Paul told Jared, "It's definitely the coil pack."

"Good thing we brought the replacement."

"Mmhm." Paul looked up at me. "Don't worry. I told you I've got you covered."

"Are you sure? I don't want to trouble—"

"Nah, no trouble at all. Happy to do it for you, Kim. It's pretty simple, so I can probably get it done in an hour."

"Oh wow. Well, thanks so much, then, Paul." I wasn't exactly sure if Paul was fixing my car as a favor to me or to Jared, and why pass on the opportunity to have my car fixed by an expert?

"No problem. Now go! Both of you! Have a fun time."

"Thanks man," Jared thumped Paul on the back and walked around to the driver's door. "Miss Kimberly?" He extended a hand to me, and I took it, laughing.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." I stood up and met his soft eyes, and for a second I caught my breath. In the afternoon light, his eyes glowed like dark sea glass held up to the sun, and I couldn't look away.

"What?" he murmured, his mouth curved in a perpetual little grin.

"Nothing," I shook my head a little awkwardly, "Just realized you only have one dimple." I tore my gaze away and we started towards his pick-up across the street. I noticed that he hadn't let go of my hand, and the feeling of his palm pressed into mine was so natural that I forgot to be nervous.

"I've been wanting to tell you," Jared said, "You look really pretty today. Uh…not that you don't look really pretty every day. Because you do. But especially today. The, uh, that's a nice color on you." From the corner of my eye, I could see him looking at me as we walked.

I bit my lip and smiled, suddenly feeling too shy to look back at him.

I looked down at my bulky tan coat, finding it a little hard to believe that he found me pretty in it. "You think so? That's really nice of you."

"Of course I think so," he said, as it was indisputable, "Plus, the brown brings out the highlights in your hair."

"Oh…uh, thanks." I could feel my cheeks flushing, and continued to avoid his gaze.

"You're even prettier when you blush." Now I was sure I was turning red. Frantically, I searched my stunned brain for something clever to say, but nothing came out.

He opened the passenger seat for me, and I looked around the cab of his truck. It wasn't spotless like Paul's, but clean enough. I counted only three candy bar wrappers on the floor and a pair of jeans draped over the driver's seat, but I supposed that there was no backseat for him to throw random papers and empty drink cups.

He hopped into the driver's seat and flashed me a satisfied smile, which only made me blush all over again.

"You know, I'm also just glad you took my advice and dressed warm," he said as we pulled onto the road.

I turned and raised an eyebrow at his lack of outerwear. He was wearing a white tank under his shirt, which he left unbuttoned, as if he could take it off and walk around thirty degree weather with only a tank top on.

"Yeah, and see I'm the only one who did," I replied with a chuckle. "Seriously, though. How have you not died of pneumonia by now?"

"Ah, only mere mortals get cold, Kim."

"Oh? So you're saying you're immortal?"

He coughed, almost like I had caught him off guard, then laughed. I thought sounded a little nervous, but I must have imagined it.

"Um, I think animal describes it better," he smirked.

"You've seemed pretty civilized so far."

"Well, clearly you haven't seen all of me. But don't worry. We can change that."

 _Is he kidding? He's got to be kidding._   _Does he not fucking realize what kind of effect him saying that stuff has on me?_

Then he winked at me, and suddenly I felt like one of those Victorian era ladies about to pass out from my tiny corseted waist. I turned away and let my hair fall to hide my blush.

"Huh," I breathed. "Right."

"So, it was really nice of Paul to come fix my car," I started, trying to change the subject.

"Ah, well, he  _is_  the expert. Can't let that expertise go to waste."

"Still, he didn't have to come."

"Oh, come on. Jokes aside, he really wanted to help."

"Really? Not like he owes me anything."

"No, but friends help each other out. Besides, he kind of feels like he hasn't been a very good friend to you."

"Oh. Huh." I chewed on my lower lip.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. Then, deciding that it was by now pretty obvious to Jared that I didn't have friends, I said, "It's just a bit funny you would say that, because besides Ella, Paul's the closest thing I've had to a friend for a while."

In the silence that followed, I turned my head to face him again and noticed his mouth was pursed in a very thin line. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel.

After a moment, he turned to me, his eyes apologetic.

"Kim, I…I want you to know how sorry I am for being such a jerk. I should have been there for you." He shook his head, brows furrowed.

"What? No, I didn't mean…"

"No, I know you didn't. But still. At least Paul checked up on you, you know? I just…I was such an idiot."

I smiled a little wryly. It felt sort of nice to hear him apologize, though I was still confused about his sudden enlightenment to my existence. Even so, I felt a little bad, seeing him so hard on himself. I really did have a soft spot for this boy.

"Jared, stop. You don't have to keep apologizing, you know."

"No, but I do. You don't understand how sorry I—"

"It's really okay. I told you. I'm not mad."

"Well, okay. Just as long as you know. I'll make it up to you."

I gave him my biggest grin. "There's nothing to make up. But yeah, okay."

"Okay. Great. Can we stop talking about Paul now? Because I want to talk about you." This elicited a laugh from me.

"Um, what about me do you want to talk about?" Internally, I grimaced.  _Really, Kimberly? What is this, an interview?_

"Well, tell me something I don't already know about you." He made a turn onto the highway and turned his head to give me a quick smile.

"Jared," I said, suddenly feeling brave enough to be snarky, "For all know you could be stalking me. Who's to say what you do or don't already know about me?"

To my relief, he chuckled.

"Yeah, that's a very valid point."

"Wait, so you admit to the stalking?"

"I'm going to plead the Fifth on that."

It was my turn to chuckle.  _Jared Cameron stalking you? What a thought, Kimberly. What a thought._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Friends :) I'm really really sorry that it's taken me such a long time to update. If only I didn't have a life beyond writing -.- Unfortunately, I haven't really thought out exactly how I want their date to go, but I didn't want to keep y'all waiting for much longer, so I hope this isn't too disappointing. Hopefully more to come very soon. Thanks again for reading!


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